


The Piranha (or In a Perfect World)

by obriensbetch



Series: Piranha Verse [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Chuck (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ballroom Dancing, Canon Crossover, Canon Divergence, Crime Fighting, Crossover, Denial of Feelings, Diggle is Not Oblivious, Episode: s02e08 The Scientist, Eventual Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, F/M, Hacking, Insecure Oliver, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, One Night Stands, Running Gags, Slow Build, Slowest build, So Much Denial of Feelings, Tommy Merlyn is Alive, Who is At this Point, flirtations, nerd love, oblivious oliver, olicity fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3866515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obriensbetch/pseuds/obriensbetch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Computer emergency...?" The man squeaked out, voice lilting up in fear at the end, probably due to the very large, very pointy arrow aimed at his face. </p><p>~</p><p>Crossover fic in which instead of Barry Allen being introduced to Team Arrow, Chuck is! YaY! Drama, angst, jealousy, and just a little bit of nerd lovinnnn' ensues. AU Divergence from 2x8 (The Scientist)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Piranha Strikes

**Author's Note:**

> so I wanna apologize in advance to anyone who reads thinking it will be anywhere near technologically accurate. for someone so in love with fictional nerds, i know less about computers and technology in general than my grandmother, which i mean she is only like sixty but still. so this is all just me making stuff up, using words i dont understand, so please dont judgeeeee, thank you! and enjoy my first chapter////

_“Nothing is so strong as gentleness, and nothing is so gentle as true strength.” – Ralph Sockman_

Felicity sighs inwardly as she finishes the process of transferring all the technically less than legally acquired entail on the whereabouts of Oliver’s latest target. She watches the screen as the bar quickly fills up to 100%, indicating that it has been sent to his mobile. She yawns, mind travelling minutely back to the big warm fluffy bed waiting for her at home. Unfortunately it only reminds her that by the time she gets there, she will only have five hours of sleep before she has to get up and head to her cover job at Queen Consolidated. Tomorrow was important, it was Moira’s first day back at the office after her trial and it would be an understatement to assume it would be eventful. Employees from EAs and down were aware of the popular opinion on whether or not it was prudent to hand back over the reins to Mrs. Queen directly after all that had happened, but having an opinion on that was definitely above her pay grade.

Diggle groaned where he leaned innocuously against her desk to the right. “You know, I really don’t see the point in him going out again tonight after The Count last week and his mother returning to the company in the morning.”

“I think that’s the point,” Felicity murmurs, without thinking, eyes trained on the screen now as a new page pops up with an unassuming chirp. She leans forward immediately, hands flying across the keyboard as she deciphers the red-lettered address that means absolutely nothing to him. “Arrow-ing is what he’s good at right now. It’s for him how hacking and decoding is for me, and soldiering is for you. Not that hacking and decoding doesn’t get stressful, because boy does it, sitting down here decrypting things all night that, if done wrong, could potentially put my boys in danger. And I’m sure—now that I think about it—that soldiering isn’t exactly a walk in the park, because dodging bullets all day probably gets mind-numbingly old after a while… But—where was I going with this?”

Diggle glanced over at her curiously as her usual rant ebbs slower and slower to eventually outrun her attention span. His mouth quirks and he tilts his head to the side, unaccustomed to Felicity ever not being hyper aware of her word vomit. Her fingers are moving at record speed now, and she’s hunched over the desk rigidly. Her face scrunched inwardly, eyes narrowed, as she frowns more and more vigorously at the screen. Diggle glances at the monitor. The page is now a mess of computer language flying from the bottom of the screen to the top. Each new chunk added is helpfully color coded. Green, red, green, red, green, red.

“Felicity?” He asked, concerning slowly climbing up to the forefront of his attention. “What is it?”

“An astonishingly good hack,” she replied through gritted teeth.

“I’m assuming that’s not astonishingly good for us.”

She made a face, her attention divided between her friend and the program. “Nope. He’s attacking our server, trying to break through my firewall.”

“He can’t do that, right?” Digg asks, coming to hover over her shoulder, tensely.

Uncertainty clouds her judgment for a second, causing her fingers to slow, but just as quickly they pick up speed again. “Doesn’t stand a chance. That’s not really the issue here.” Before he can ask, she continues. “Whoever he is, he doesn’t want into our database. He’s looking for my—our identities. A quick evasive mislead link would easily handle that, except he’s using a government database. They’re virtually impossible to delude.”

  
“Wait,” Digg straightens from his hunched stance in surprising. “Are you saying a government agent is trying to hack into our server?”

“No, I’m saying a _hacker_  who happens to also be a government agent is successfully hacking into our server!” Felicty cries out the last half in frustration, her arms flailing upwards as her torso rears back in equal parts irritation, disappointment, and—if she’s being honest, which she isn’t—fascination. He wasn’t fooled by any of her usual ploys and the shields she put up were easily overrode. Her left arm wraps instinctively around her chest and her right elbow rests in her hand as she rhythmically traces her upper lip, trying to think of a way of outfoxing this very impressive hacker.

Diggle’s question sparks an idea, from where he has returned to leaning against the desk. “Can’t you do that ‘piggyback’ thing, where you let him follow you into a trap or something?”

Felicity’s gaze jerks up to his face, eyes alight with delight as it comes to her. A pleased and fairly smug grin pulls at her fuchsia colored lips and she quickly mutters, “I could kiss you.” She then grabs the edge of the desk and pulls herself to the left screens in her swivel chair, narrowly avoiding clipping Diggle’s hip as he lurches out of the way.  
Diggle’s eyebrow raises as the sides of his lips quirk up in amusement. Felicity doesn’t bother to notice already typing away at the new monitor. She quickly sets up her enclosure and rushes through as multiple pages fling themselves across the screen. From the monitor to her right another innocuous chirp reminds her that he’s gaining.

“Facebook?” Diggle’s voice sounds from above her head. “Is this really the time?”

She ignores him, turning back to her previously used monitor. She begins typing again, and the red and green conversation hitches back up, with vigor. Diggle doesn’t bother trying to understand anymore, however; he pulls back—arms crossed over his impressive chest—and waits her out, fully confident and trusting in Felicity Smoak’s ability to out-hack any threat.

At last, the image from the far left screen popped up onto the one under current use. Felicity’s body instantly springs back, fist reaching into the air with a silent ‘yes!’ He’d followed her right into her trap. Relief floods her body at the lack of danger, and she feels herself immediately drain of anxiety. A page appears on the monitor in between the two in use with the image of a map, address, and another set of codes. She sinks back into her swivel chair and turns around to Digg, a small smirk still lingering from her victory.

“I take it that was supposed to happen?”

She nods slowly, grin still in place, before sitting up again and adding, “And I’ll need the rest of the night to finish decoding, but I’m pretty sure I have a name too.”

“How?”

She shrugs faux-casually. “Army guys have their army-guy myths, hacker kids have their hacker kid myths.” When Digg’s expression still remained blank, she continued. “There’s only one person I’ve ever heard of who could hack like that. It was back in college. My friend always talked about how there was a guy who could hack anything. I’ll save you the internet lingo, but he was the best. A legend. Supposedly a senior in Stanford, by the time I was in MIT. But then he was just gone. People speculated he was probably busted for accessing some top secret government database or something. But I always assumed he wasn’t real…”

“Wow.” Digg stares, eyes filled with what looked like sudden awareness. “You are such a nerd.”

Felicity snorts and rolls her eyes at John. She isn't offended; she is oddly proud of the title, especially after having just gone up against someone as skilled as the hacker she suspected him to be. Adrenaline is still rushing through, making her toes tingling nervously and her fingers to quiver. Her head feels too hot, as if the excitement alone might short-circuit her brain.

“So what’s this guy’s name, Felicity?”

Another smirk. “The Piranha."


	2. Chelicity???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity and the boys meet some new friends, and some new enemies are revealed....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chuck is introduced!!! ta-da!!!!!
> 
> also, obviously some of these aren't my lines, some are directly from the show... and i guess it should be stated that none of these characters belong to me.
> 
> also, yes there is a bit of profanity so if that offends you, please be warned!
> 
> and.... i think thats it; please, enjoy!!!!

Oliver storms into the Foundry, hot with rage. His heavy steps on the metal stairs echo loudly down into the wide basement. His fury is such that he doesn’t even bother with what Felicity calls “your indoor Ollie voice.” He sees her and Digg standing before her desk, waiting for him. Good, he thinks. So they know how mad he is.

“Before you say anything, I just want to point out that we didn’t lose any data and—“

“Felicity.” His voice is raspy and deep with thinly veiled ire. “What happened? How could you let someone in?”

Felicity takes a step forward and responds. “Okay, I know you must’ve been pretty spooked when you got the Security Breach warning, but actually it was on purpose.”

“What?”

Diggle steps forward then, sidling up in front of her so Oliver could only see half of her face. This makes him even madder, this obstruction from looking at her. Just last week she   
had been abducted by the Count and held at gunpoint, and later, needlepoint. What if someone had been able to access the security system and get down here? What if someone had put her in danger again?

In his rage, he hadn’t realized he’d been saying all of this out loud until Felicity’s soft little scoff grabs his attention. He can’t even acknowledge his embarrassment at his musings for the brand new wave of wrath washing over him as he angles his head around Digg, to see her. She has her arms wrapped up in front of her chest and she’s rolling her eyes, an unamused smirk on her face. 

“First of all, Oliver, I was here. I would’ve handled a break-in. It’s my job, remember?” Diggle gives him a look, as if his unspoken protection over her is obvious. “And second, she led him into a trap. Right?”

From behind both men, Felicity nods. She steps up to stand beside Diggle as she explains. “Yes. I couldn’t stop him with my usual stuff, so I had to improvise. Thanks to John, my muse, I got the idea to set up a fake desktop in which the only things accessible was ordinary stuff like social media and work papers, and since I knew I couldn’t keep him out much longer, I let him in, but then he got too excited—which is what we anticipated he would do—and piggybacked me straight into the Trojan. Once he was in, I locked it up and threw away the key—meaning, of course, he could go as far as that, but no further. Then, as an afterthought, I added a tracer, so that if he tried getting back out—which he obviously would—I could track where and how and by whose computer he did that from.”

“Wow.” Digg murmurs from beside Felicity. “Hearing it instead of seeing it, it’s almost like in the battlefield. Maybe she should have a Hood.”

“The lesson here, boys, is to never underestimate your opponent. He thought he was better than me. That’s when he made a mistake.” She says, proud smirk resurfacing. 

Oliver feels the corners of his mouth inching up in that proud little smirk he has found himself carrying so often lately, as he stares at his awesome IT girl. Quickly he pushes the   
thought—and accompanying tug in the depths of his chest—away, mentally wipes the grin off his face, and replies, “So did you find him?”

Felicity makes a face. “You kidding? ‘Course I found him.”

She moves to her desk, sitting in front of one of the constantly roving screens and pulls up three pages. Only one of which can he understand: a map. He and Digg both come to stand over either of her shoulders before she continues. “He’s in Burbank, California. He’s working off a Roark 7, which is just about the number one government military computer system—“

“Felicity,” Oliver chides, bringing her attention back.

“Right, he’s on a government computer, so he may be some sort of operative, but more importantly he’s a hacker—a damn good one. And if he tries to get in again using the same computer… I don’t know what I can do to stop him this time.”

Oliver frowns, the idea of someone being able to outsmart his Felicity—his Felicity? Where did that come from?—in anything tech related makes him uneasy. He quickly straightens from where he had been leaning into her space. “Can you get a name?”

Felicity stares ahead at the screen, fingers already pounding into the keys, and says. “Oh definitely. By tonight? Not so definite.”

“Well staying here all night isn’t an option. I need to be at the office in the morning and so do the both of you. My mother is coming back tomorrow and, as you know, she’s going to need all the support she can get.”

Diggle nods, grabbing his coat and pulling it on. “Then I think I’ll head out. Nice work tonight, Oliver, Felicity.”

The two watch him go, silence hanging in his wake. When the door to the Foundry closes, Oliver finally turns back to Felicity. However, she’s already facing the monitors again, typing away at some bright red encryption. 

“This is the data he left behind,” she murmurs, already lost in the chase, the mystery. 

He feels a moment of mislead jealousy toward the hacker that has enraptured his IT girl’s attention so fully. Usually she makes a lot of eye contact when she talks to him, but not tonight. Tonight some lucky nerd has all her focus, and it makes him feel an odd unsettled feeling in his chest as he watches her. He quickly squashes the feeling, assuring himself it’s due to the sudden change. But the longer he watches her, the stronger the urge becomes to pull her away from the task. 

“Felicity,” He says her name before he can stop himself, and she glances up from the monitor to look at him. He mentally kicks himself, because the fact that she looks at him so earnestly definitely should not do things to his gut. Her lips part slightly as she fully takes in his physique for the first time that night. He’s still wearing his Arrow suit, but the top is only zipped halfway up and she can see the top of his chest from where his black undershirt has been stretched downward. He’s slick with sweat and the skin on his neck and chest is ruddy from the labor of his evening activities. She wonders how far out that heat stretches, before quickly reeling that train of thought back in.   
She glances back up at his face to see that Oliver’s eyelids have slid down, as if his thoughts are so dark they are weighing on his face. The urge to reach up and alleviate some of the pressure now building in her lower abdomen is quickly stanched by his next words. 

“Felicity,” he repeats. “As my EA, you will probably encounter my mother at some point tomorrow. Please don’t mention anything related to her time in prison. As comically relieving as you are when it comes to awkward social encounters, trust that using it to ‘lighten the mood’ tomorrow will result in the opposite.”

Wow, way to ruin the sexy moment by bringing up your mom, she thinks, then immediately hopes she didn’t just say that out loud. She turns back to her monitor, waiting for him to react to her less than platonic thoughts and, when he doesn’t, sighs in relief, “Sure, no problem, boss. Or—I guess, Moira’s the boss now… not that I mind, because I don’t, really have an opinion on it. I mean, sure, don’t get me wrong, having my vigilante boss’ mom as my other boss sounds both heartwarming and pretty terrifying. But.” She awkwardly points her thumbs at herself as she swivels to face Oliver again. “No opinion. That’s me.”

His usual tolerant smirk is there, and so she breathes out in relief. At least she can still make him smile with her flailing babbling. 

“Go home, Felicity, get some rest, if you can.”

She nods quickly, glad for the change in topic. “Sure, just going to start the decoding process on this guy and transfer it to my tablet. Then it’ll let me know when it’s finished decoding, and voila! We will know the identity of our hacker.”

Oliver nods, suddenly very weary. He moves toward the back where a small closet-like room resides for him to change out of his Hood. “Good. Goodnight, Felicity.”

“Night, Oliver.” Her murmur is low, and she wonders if he hears it over the whirr of the computers as he strides away.

 

~

 

“Oliver? I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s been a break-in.”

Oliver’s eyes immediately jerk up to Felicity where she is standing, leaning into his office doorjamb. His gaze roves down her, searching for any injuries. Just as quickly, however, he meets her eyes again, coming to his senses. “Right. If you’ll excuse me, Ms. Rochev.”

He steps around her and strides meaningfully toward Felicity. His hand automatically comes to rest on her back as they make their way through her small waiting office and stop in front of the elevators where Diggle is waiting for them. He gives Oliver a knowing nod, eyebrow quirked, and they make their way into an opening elevator. “Mr. Queen.”

“What’s this about?”

Diggle answers before Felicity has a chance. “One of Queen Consolidated’s applied science warehouses was broken into last night. They don’t know yet if anything was taken. Detective Lance is on site.”

Oliver nods in apprehension. Ever since he got back, encounters with the Laurel’s father while Hoodless were almost as stressful as his other encounters with the Hood. He takes a steadying breath in preparation as they step out of the elevator and head to the Bentley that is being pulled up to the door of the QC building. Oliver steps up ahead of the other two and opens the door for Felicity. She slides in and then Oliver follows. Digg goes around to the front and they pull out and toward the road. 

“Sorry about breaking up your meeting back there. Ms. Rochev definitely seemed to be upset by the interruption.” Felicity comments, trying to sound casual. She suspects that it didn’t work when she hears a vaguely muffled snort from the front seat. 

Oliver, however, seems oblivious to the interaction. “No, I should thank you.” He glances over at her, a small smile playing at his lips. “Anything to get out of that conversation.”

She ignores the way that smile triggers a blush in her cheeks and causes her heart to stutter at a faster pace. He catches her eye and the smile inches wider. The thought that she would barely have to move to place her hand on his thigh catches her off guard, and the sweet curl of pleasure at the idea of what it would feel like under her hand breaks a smile out on her face. Oliver’s eyes drop down to her upturned mouth. She feels as if the tension is palpable, a living sinewy thread pulling them together. She thinks she can’t possibly be imagining the darkening in his eyes, the focus pulling into the tightening of his muscles as if it’s laboring not to touch her. 

A speed bump jolts the car and a shock of awareness runs up Felicity’s spine. She blinks the need from her glazed eyes and glances around the car. They’re already halfway to the vandalized warehouse. She looks back at Oliver, but he is staring ahead again, lost in one of his moments when she suspects he’s back on the island. She must truly have been imagining his responding reactions to her, she realizes with a sick feeling similar to disappointment, but definitely not that, nope.

Ten quiet minutes later, they pull up to the warehouse and step through the gates, security guards and police guiding them through to the damaged entrance, where Detective Lance and a few techs are waiting. He stands over a large disfigured scrap of metal that Felicity realizes after further inspection is the remnants of the metal door.

“This door,” Digg informs, squatting down to pick at the frayed—frayed—side of the largest piece. “Was made of expanded reinforced Titanium. What did they use to do this?”

Detective Lance ambles around the wreckage, eyes squinted in that familiar look of awestruck skepticism. He toed at a jagged piece of door. “Not sure yet. No sign of explosives. Maybe a crane or a forklift. Had to be a group of people.” He glances up to where Oliver has come to stand beside Felicity, Digg on his other flank. “Any idea what these guys were so hot to break in for? Didn’t happen to leave a spare earthquake machine lying around, did you?”

Oliver’s eyes dart to Lance’s face. He can’t possibly know how much responsibility Oliver takes for Merlyn’s earthquake machine going off, but he must see something because he quickly mutters, “Sorry.”

A tech comes to stand before the Oliver before he can respond, but he looks at Lance as he says, “We only caught one guy on the security cam. The rest of the crew must’ve come in after him.”

Felicity frowns apprehensively as Oliver, Digg, Lance and she watch the footage the tech plays for them on a tablet. The man on the screen is obviously huge, even in the grainy image. He chest-kicks one security man into a coupling of barrels in a corner, and throws another in the other direction, his body sliding across the floor. Then he stoops down and grabs a piece of ripped metal from the door and flings it at the security cam. The image goes fuzzy and the shock of the sight has everyone quietly apprehensive. 

“Maybe it’s just one bionic guy,” an unfamiliar voice sounds from directly behind her ear, causing her and the tech to jump. “I mean, did you see the way he just picked up that guard? And the other one just went flying at the wall when he kicked him. I mean, I’ve seen my fair share of bad action movies, but that was…”

The man’s comical voice trails off as the whole group turns to stare at him. He visibly shrinks back into himself as if the pure physicality of Oliver, Digg, and Lance actually pains him. Felicity quickly appraises the tall thin man, noticing his white short-sleeve work shirt, thin gray tie, and mop of dark curls. His eyes dart nervously over to a tall blonde woman to his left, and Felicity automatically recognizes the large man in the plain black suit standing vacantly over the couple as security. 

“And who are you?” Detective Lance inquires, voice dripping thinly veiled disdain. 

“Oh!” The man makes a face, as if just now remembering to introduce himself. “Right, sorry. It’s Carmichael.” A smirk appears on his face and his voice adopts an unfitting faux confidence. “Charles Carmichael.”

Oliver’s expression remains conveniently impassive, but both Digg and Lance’s looks are relating that his future as a free man and/or limbs are unsafe in his current environment. The tech is giving his bodyguard an appreciative glance, which the bodyguard doesn’t seem to be very grateful for. Luckily for the rambling man, the woman in the nondescript black pencil skirt and blazer that is both professional and attractively fitting takes mercy on the situation and turns to Detective Lance.

“I’m Alana Trouffeau and this is Mr. Carmichael, a forensics analyst, of Central City CSI, and our associate Mr. Barry Allen.” She announces to the men, voice calm and authoritative. Ms. Trouffeau never once glances in her direction, Felicity notices with mild irritation. “We’re looking into multiple cases in the area with some similarities to this one.”

Lance and his tech share a glance before he turns back to the woman and gives a stiff nod and a disgruntled sniff. Oliver seems to find her slightly more interesting that Felicity thinks is pertinent to the situation, feeling her own bit of sniffiness coming on. The detective’s tech turns back to Oliver in dismissal and requests, “We’ll need a list of inventory to know what all was stolen, but we think we know of at least one thing.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow in question, but before he can respond, the analyst speaks again, “A centrifuge. An industrial centrifuge that was stored here. Probably the Chord Enterprises 2BX 900.”

He sidesteps around the group of men, brushing against Felicity’s shoulder on his way, and begins weaving his way through the warehouse, with Lance, Felicity and her boys, and his “associates” warily trailing behind. He continues to talk as he confidently circles a small area in the middle of the floor where something has obviously been torn out of the ground. 

“It, uh, has a three-column base. Here, you can see the three broken bolts where the guy—er, guys—just yanked it right out of the sub-base.” He motions chaotically with his hands, a bundle of nerves, as if he is still trying to convince someone of his competence.

Though Felicity can already tell that he must be who he says he is, as he’s exactly correct. She frowns over at him slightly, re-evaluating him with new eyes. 

“Okay, hold on,” Detective Lance exclaims, holding up his hands. “What exactly is a centrifuge?”

Felicity responds without thinking, eyes on the mess, “It separates liquids. The centripetal acceleration causes denser substances to separate out along a radial direction.”

“The lighter objects move to the top.” The analyst reiterates, eyeing the dumbstruck look on Lance’s face, small grin on his face.

Felicity’s gaze jerks up to his face and her lips raise into a matching grin as she says, “What did you say your name was?”

“Chuck,” he immediately responds, his grin suddenly turning shy. “Charles! But, you know, you can call me Chuck.”

“Felicity Smoak,” She nods kindly, “Call me Felicity.”

Oliver frowns, eyes darting between the two, wondering why the way his IT girl is smiling at this stranger is causing him such strong aggravation. He turns his gaze back to the too-friendly analyst, activating what Felicity calls his “Oliver death glare.” The man glances over at him, eyes widening, and turns away with a gulp. His eyes land on the woman, Alana Trouffeau, in desperation and she steps forward as if on instinct. 

The distraction pulls Felicity out of her thoughts and the Detective catches her eye. He motions her away from the semi-circle and moves to stand with her back facing Oliver and the others. Lance follows suit, his hand habitually resting lightly on her upper arm. He leans his head forward and whispers, “You might want to fill our mutual friend in on the situation over here.”

She glances over her shoulder where Oliver is squatting over the wreckage with Chuck leaning carefully over his shoulder, pointing something out to him. She nods absently, her mind already on the chirp from her tablet in her purse, “Trust me, I’m sure he’s already on it.”

Lance nods in understanding at her and moves to pull away. As he retreats, she pulls her tablet out of her purse and unlocks it to see that her computers down in the Foundry have finished decoding the information on the identity of the hacker from last night. She turns back toward where Oliver and the rest of the group stand, anxiously pulling up the page, and her thoughts on uncovering the identity of the Piranha.

Shock shoots through her as she stares at her screen, unable to control the way her jaw drops and her eyebrows rise up at their own accord. She gasps in surprise at the information and her face tilts up, automatically finding his face. She doesn’t realize until then, that her intake of breath was loud enough for five pairs of eyes to look up in her direction, but she only looks back at one. Diggle immediately moves to her and Oliver stands, finally catching her eye. She turns away to look up at him and she can see the confusion and concern etched into his face. She doesn’t say anything, just allows John to pull the tablet from her grasp. 

As he registers the name and photograph on the screen, reeling back in shock, she reminds herself that they are being watched by three strangers. She quickly rearranges her face, takes the tablet back and says, “Mr. Queen, something has come up back at the office that needs to be handled immediately.”

Oliver frowns, but nods and turns back to Chuck and his friends. “If you’ll excuse us,” he murmurs.

“Of course,” Ms. Trouffeau says, professional as always. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Right. Yes, right. We’ll totally be in touch.” Felicity says, twitchily. “Chuck. Barry.”

They move in habitual synchronization out of the open space, through the equipment and to the door. 

 

~

 

“Chuck?” Sarah’s voice comes from behind him, and he winces at the poorly hidden accusation in her normally fond voice. “What just happened?”

He makes a face, brows furrowing, as he turns slowly toward her. Casey steps up beside her, an annoyed smirk on his face. “The moron did something. He’s going to blow our cover because he can’t keep it in his pants when he bumps into another nerd with a skirt.”

Chuck glares half-heartedly at Casey before turning back Sarah. She’s frowning at Chuck, like she’s confused and becoming increasingly angry. 

“Okay, so maybe I found out our next mission was in Starling City, and I might’ve hacked into the vigilante’s database, and maybe… it lead me to a dead end desktop owned by someone named Felicity Smoak…”

“What???”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw, for some reason Ao3 keeps taking out my italicized words and i italicize A LOT, so that sucks. i'll work on fixing that. and please let me know what you thought, or things you liked/disliked and anything you think i missed :)


	3. Two Worlds Collide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So from now on, expect any more updates to be so much longer than the first two bc I don’t want a lot of chapters but I do have a lot to talk about :D
> 
> Anything that seems like a grammatical error isn't poetic, it's just me being lazy and having grammatical errors lol 
> 
> And again, please don’t assume I know what I’m talking about when it comes to the technical hacking stuff. I am taking all the liberties on that one. So if something sounds waaaay off to you, and you know it’s not right, it’s because I made it up to fit my liking for this story, heh.
> 
> Please still enjoy!!!!

“So what you’re telling me is that Charles Carmichael is our ‘damn good’ hacker?”

Felicity grimaces, thinking it sounds so much worse when he says it with his “fuming vigilante gravelly voice.” She knows it’s bad (it’s so bad) that The Piranha—who was somehow able to hack like a legend into their system—had now successfully integrated himself into an investigation that not only involves the Arrow, but also Oliver, John and her cover identities. But saying it aloud like that kind of makes Chuck sound a lot more threatening than Felicity suspects he is. Of course, she doesn’t say any of this, because she knows that—as supportive of her tech skills and protective of her well-being as her boys are—they would very likely accuse her of not being objective. Which is unfair. Oliver’s like the poster child for allowing his feelings to cloud his judgment.

He’s also still waiting on an answer. So apparently his previous inquiry was not rhetorical. Instead of responding with the obvious, she answers him by listing all the information she has. “His real name is Chuck Bartowski. He lives in Burbank with an older sister. He works at an appliance store called Buy More –which is basically just a kind of Best Buy, as far as I can tell.”

John walks around the chair facing Oliver’s desk, where they group in his office, to stand by the floor-to-ceiling window. His voice is serious, professional. “It must be his cover job.”

“There are worse ones,” Felicity mutters sardonically, under her breath, and they share a knowing glance.

Oliver ignores them, but moves around his desk to stand in front of Diggle. Felicity quickly takes a few steps closer to them, tablet in hand. Oliver directs at her, “What about the sister?”

She shrugs. “Got a few speeding tickets in med school. Lives a pretty solid life with her fellow doctor boyfriend. Her boyfriend, by the way, could give you a run for your money with all hours he puts into his gym membership—I mean, wow.”

John is smirking fondly at her when she looks up, but Oliver frowns. The look wrenches her back to the present impending danger. “Right, sorry, okay. No. On paper, they both lead squeaky clean, almost boringly normal lives.”

Oliver sighs in frustration, as if her fruitless search has personally offended him. Maybe it has, for all she knows. He’s seemed so shut down from her lately. He turns toward the window at an angle that hides his face from her, she notices.

“Fine. Did you check up on what we found at the warehouse?”

Felicity nods, although he can’t see her. She pulls up the scanned warehouse inventory checklist and the security feed she’d managed to scrounge up on the deeply tense ride back to QC. “The inventory confirms that the only thing missing from the Applied Sciences warehouse was the centrifuge. And a convenience store’s security cam caught this approximately ten minutes after the break-in, across the street.”

She plays them the disturbing footage of the larger-than-life man carrying what appears to be the (two ton) industrial centrifuge to the back of a truck. They both pull away looking as nonplussed as she feels. The concerned frown is back on Oliver’s face as he says, “Keep a monitor on both situations. If either of you hear anything, I want to know about it immediately.”

“Sure.”

Felicity turns, hearing the dismissal in his voice that means there’s nothing else to say that he’s ready to listen to. This is their cue to leave him to his thoughts and tucked away anxieties. Not for the first time, she wishes that just once he would let her in. She knows that he carries a lot around with him, always holding up his Ollie mask, or his Mr. Queen mask, or hiding under the Hood. But underneath those, if you wait him out and always keep your eyes open, she knows there are cracks in the armor. She has seen them before, saw them the night he had to kill the Count. It’s all too much for one man to carry on his own, no matter how strong he fights or how hard he trains.

She wants him to see, just _once_ , that when everyone else has turned away, she’ll always be there. She always is.

 

~

 

“He’s always just _there_ , is the thing.” Chuck murmurs over the whir of the computer.

They’re hunkered down in their hotel room, Casey playing with his weapons, Sarah rolling up her clothes to pack. Chuck sits at the little desk, scrolling through local news from the last year. It’s completely riddled with “Vigilante” headlines. “It’s crazy, he’s like Batman.”

Of course he knows it’s a silly thought. But ever since he started seeing the news about the vigilante, he’s been pretty interested. It was like there was a real life superhero out there somewhere, doing the things he thought were right and, yeah, when he looked at it objectively, he saw that it was more likely some PTSD-riddled veteran off his anti-psychotic pills. But the thought was nice. To think that there was someone out there, that maybe didn’t have a computer in his head, but was still just a normal guy like him, saving the world in whatever way he could. I mean, could he really blame him for that? Wasn’t that what Chuck did, every day?

When he’d heard that their next mission was in Starling City, he had instantly seen the opportunity. At first, it was just a quick search on vigilante citing’s, but then he thought of his dad’s computer and how he was sure he could use one of the vigilante’s high profile targets to backtrack him into his mainframe, and how much would the CIA and NSA appreciate the name of whoever was helping this guy get all the information that he does? But the time he had realized he’d followed straight into her trap, it was too late. The name on all her work documents and web searches had been branded to his brain. He recognized Felicity Smoak the second he saw her at Oliver Queen’s side.

“Sure we shouldn’t revoke his internet privilege after the stunt he pulled?” Casey asks sardonically at Sarah, eyes never leaving the gun in his hand.

Chuck makes a face at him. “Hah hah, you’re comedian. Seriously, Sarah, look at this!”

She sighs, walking over to peer over his shoulder, hand lightly resting on his neck. Chuck eagerly scrolled through the biggest hits. His words are out before he can think to stop them. “Do you think she works for him?”

Sarah’s hand jerks away from him, and he turns away from the computer to look up at her. Her expression is guarded. “That’s not our mission, Chuck.”

He frowns. Ever since the truth serum incident, he’s felt like Sarah has been more closed off than usual. He wonders if his question about where their relationship was going is making her uneasy around him, which is definitely something he doesn’t want. Whether she cares about him on the same caliber or not, he needs her support if he’s going to keep up this double life like this. She’s the closest thing he has to a real relationship, someone he can talk to about work with Morgan or what he hated the most about their latest mission.

“I know, it’s just –she didn’t seem like a criminal, did she?”

“Keep your mind on the mission, Bartowski. That’s what got us into this mess in the first place.” Casey calls from where he sits at the small table in the corner. “Now we got to figure out if your new friend is going to rat us out to his hot-shot boss.”

“Why don’t I just go over there?”

An idea was forming in Chuck’s mind, a way to figure out more about the Arrow and another chance to figure out if anything was going on with Felicity and her boss.

“What! No!” Sarah exclaims, in surprise, hands on her hips. “It is way too dangerous. She could alert the vigilante. He could work with her at Queen Consolidated, for all we know.”

“You’re never going to be able to get a bug on her, not from inside the Queen Consolidated building. Did you see the security they have in there?”

“The kid’s got a point.” Casey states begrudgingly. “If Blondie noticed his giant nerd boner, the way everyone else did, she’ll probably let him up –no questions asked. Then he can plant the bugs and we don’t have to lift a finger.”

“Casey—“

“Come on, Sarah, trust me!” Chuck pleads, taking a step toward her. “This, I can handle. I messed up, let me fix it.”

She frowns up at him, lips pinched. But after a second of deliberation, she concedes. “Okay. But you have to do _everything_ we say.”

 

~

 

Felicity is walking down into the Foundry in dumbfound shock. She looks up at the bottom of the stairs to see John at the punching dummy and Oliver at the salmon ladder, but she can’t even be distracted from her surprise by the wonder that is Oliver Queen’s naked chest. He looks tense, which is usual for him during training, but it’s slightly more so now. She comes to stand in the middle of the room, directly between the men.

“So, something weird just happened.”

Oliver’s eye find her immediately, and he drops to the ground without a thought. Diggle looks up from the dummy as well, but gives it another couple of punches before turning toward her. They both move closer to her, taking in her flabbergasted expression and unmoving stance. Oliver gets to her first, and gives her a thorough once-over.

“What?”

She gulps, “Chuck just called the office and asked for a lunch meeting. With me.”

The men share a look, which confirms her fear that this definitely isn’t about bonding. They look back to her, now slightly tenser than before. She realizes belatedly that they’re waiting for more. “What?”

“What did you say, Felicity?” Digg asks slowly, as if she’s just hit her head.

“Oh, I said okay. Is that bad? Should I have said no? I figured we would want to know what he wanted. But now I’m realizing that’s kind of bad, right? Inviting him in, like a vampire? Yeah, I should’ve said no—“

“No, this could be good.” Diggle murmurs, finger pointing absently at her. He looks to Oliver, who is glaring back like he thinks his friend has lost his mind. “We can use this to our advantage.”

“And what if he wants to hurt her? Or he tries to get into our system again?” He exclaims, furiously. His hands are on his hips, facing Diggle fully now. _  
_

“He won’t.” Felicity says, raising their attention once more. “I mean, he can try. But I programmed all of our systems –QC’s, the one in the Foundry, my personal network at home –to alert me immediately if any government based computer is used to hack into them. I stayed up last night creating a new firewall. The second it comes online –which is what it will do when I’m alerted –it becomes a directory. It won’t stop him from getting in, but it will lead him to a 48 hour decoding process as a password that can’t be stopped or sped up. It will keep his computer out of commission for at least two days. Also, have you seen him? I feel like I could probably easily overpower him.”

Felicity’s good-natured scoff is cut off, as she focuses back on Oliver’s face, which is unconvinced. Diggle takes an unconscious step forward, excitement uncharacteristically shaping his features. “I think we should do it. This could be our chance to figure out what his deal is. And judging by the way this Chuck guy was ogling Felicity, I’m sure she could get _something_ out of him.”

He’s mostly facing Oliver now, seeing as he is really the only party that still needs convincing, and by the look on his face, _a lot_ of convincing is in order.

“Oliver, look at it this way,” Felicity says, tone carefully neutral. “This way we know where he is, what he’s doing. I bet it’s a lot easier to Arrow-stalk when you can follow the target from your own building to wherever it is they’re going.” He still looks less than convinced, and she quickly throws out her next sentence before she can second guess it. “Side note, I’m having the meeting with him either way, so we might as well agree on it now and have arranged back-up.”

 

~

 

“Ms. Smoak!”

Felicity looks up, startled out of her thoughts, to see Chuck standing in front of her desk. He’s wearing his same white short-sleeved work shirt and tie. As she jerkily stands, she notices he’s wearing red converse (and may or may not adore it). When she meets his eyes, the genuine kind pleasure she sees there has her smiling just as warmly back. They awkwardly shake hands, both in an attempt to be professional.

“Chuck,” she says, with more fondness than she means to seep out.

He gives her a small half-smile before glancing down at her dress and commenting, “Nice dress, very… _vibrant_.”

She follows his gaze down to her polished “office” dress (as she likes to call them), with its bright orange and pink hues. She wouldn’t say it’s really her style, but she had seen the necessity to up her wardrobe game after being given her very own desk and the less than esteemed title of Exec Assistant.

She smiles, her lips pulling inward instead of outward. “Thanks. Have a seat.”

Chuck makes a face like he’s been pulled back into the reality of why they’re here, and turns to awkwardly flail into his seat. She sits in her comfortable swivel chair, watching in awed amusement. How one person can flounder so impressively while doing something so mundane is beyond her. He almost reaches her level of ineptitude when she rambles.

The voice buzzing in her ear quickly pulls her mind from her thoughts of their _growing_ compatibility. “ _Felicity? Get the conversation going. Be casual, charismatic. Don’t clam up_.”

Oliver’s instructions in her mic from where he perches on the building across the street reminds her that this meeting is being watched. She feels herself stiffen out of her unassuming stance, and tries not to feel too pressured. Why he would assume she would clam up after being repeatedly ordered to _flirt_ she has no idea. Do they have absolutely no faith?

“So, what did you want to talk about? The case? Because I could’ve come by your hotel to see you –not that I want to be invited to your hotel room, no. I just meant that we could’ve met someplace less formal, like for instance, the place you’re staying at; which is where, exactly?”

“ _Geez, Felicity, we don’t need you to actually come onto him, I think I pretty clearly specified_ light flirting _was as far as you needed to take it.”_ Diggle’s voice sounds, and she visibly winces.

“ _Easy. Just try not to be so aggressive?”_ Oliver growls, with what Felicity feels is an unfair amount of hostility.

Her eyes focus back on Chuck, but luckily he’s grinning shyly again. “Sorry. I sometimes don’t think about how best to word a thought before actually voicing it—“

“No need to apologize, I think I may be the one other person who can relate to that particular quality.”

His eyes are warm and she can tell he’s holding back laughter, but she doesn’t feel judged. She doesn’t even realize she’s returning the grin until she hears a familiar impatient grunt in her ear. She attempts to school her features into some semblance of professionalism.

“So, what did you want to meet about then?”

Chuck’s mouth opens, as if to speak, but when nothing comes out it snaps shut again. His eyes flicker down toward her desk, examining it. She follows his gaze again, in interest, but only sees the same stack of papers, coffee cup, rubber play doll and keyboard and monitor that are on there every day. Her eyebrow quirks in amusement as her eyes find his again.

“I… wondered if maybe you wanted to get some food. Sometime.” Once the sentence was out, he seemed much more enthusiastic about it, quickly adding, “Yeah! I thought we could do something, maybe. If Mr. Queen will let you out of his sight, of course.”

A scoff in her ear is barely caught under the loud amused guffaw that is surely Digg.

“I think I could get an evening off, for someone worth it,” she murmurs, not sure which of the men listening she is teasing. “He _knows_ I deserve a few vacations days.”

Chuck smiles that shy half smile again, and –even though he’s potentially the enemy, even though this is all part of the plan, even though he’s not really the guy she wishes it would be smiling at her like that –she feels a little giddy at the attention. She might also feel a small thrill of pleasure at the idea of making a certain green faux-leather wearing vigilante jealous. She would _never_ admit it.

Chuck is still grinning happily at her as they stand. “Seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up.”

She walks him to the elevator and waves awkwardly as the doors close. Her heart jumps to her throat when she hears a familiar voice behind her shoulder.

“That was _not_ what we agreed on.”

She turns slowly, as her heart desperately tries to slow down. He’s still in his Hood, and he’s lucky this floor has practically vacated for lunch. Diggle stands a few feet away, hands together in front of him, and an amused smirk on his face. She doesn’t see what is so funny when Oliver’s acting like this.

“So? I don’t remember the rules of being part of Team Arrow including not going on dates. Because then, I would be the only still _on_ the team.”

‘ _Team Arrow?’_ Oliver mouths, an incredulous look on his face, as she turns and begins walking back to her desk. There is one seat in front of it –the one Chuck used—and it slants slightly askew, probably from where he knocked it sideways in one of his jerky awkward movements. She feels a small smile tug at her lips at the sight. Oliver strides ahead and quickly pushes it back into place.

He turns to face her, but her eyes are still on the chair, private smile in place. He hates that its presence makes his stomach twist in something that he hasn’t felt since Laurel and Tommy. He knows it’s just his worry for her wellbeing that makes him so sick at the thought of Felicity and this guy getting close, but he, nevertheless, still pushes it to the back of his mind. She’s glaring at him now, and that’s something he can use to get his mind off of the acid in his stomach.

“You went off script.”

“What better way to get more entail than a date?”

“The way that doesn’t involve yet _another_ private meeting between you and someone trying to _hack into our database_.”

“How many times do I have to _tell you_. He’s not a threat!”

“Actually,” Diggle interrupts, feeling very much like he’s back to babysitting again. “He is a threat, Felicity. Don’t forget, I was there the first time he tried getting into our server. I saw the way you panicked. But, also. Oliver, she’s right; after that painfully obvious query about his hotel, she has to do something to make up for it. She has to catch him guard, and what better setting than a date with a beautiful girl to let his guard down?”

“Fine, but we’re coming for back up again.” Oliver grudgingly concedes, unable to come up with a better defense than _I don’t like the way you smile at him._

“Fine.” Felicity repeats.

Diggle stares at the couple from where he stands between them. Oliver stares broodily out from under his Hood, where he leans against the guest chair, while Felicity glares hotly, back erect, arms crossed barely three feet away. He sighs, because _seriously, aren’t they supposed to be adults?_

“Fine, can we get back to work now? Oliver, you need to go change before anybody gets back from lunch.”

Oliver frowns, ignoring the order and turning to stare down at the seat where his hand had been clutching it. Felicity’s eyebrow quirks in curiosity, but her anger holds her tongue. Digg steps forward, however, asking the question she wants the answer to, as well.

“What is it, Oliver?”

His back is hunched and she sees him pull something small from under the armrest of the chair. He holds it out for inspection and Felicity sees a pin-sized black circle. She frowns, confused as to what it is.

Oliver, however, must immediately recognize what the little chip is, as his body instantly freezes, muscles going rigid. He spins back around, a finger pressed to his lips in a mute plea for silence. Felicity glances up at Digg in question, but his eyes are fixed on the device, head reared back in apprehension. She’s sure that she is now the only one that is still lost.

She looks back at Oliver in time to see his startled face twist into barely restrained ire. He drops the device onto the ground and without a second thought, slams his heavy boot down on it. Felicity jumps in shock at the loud echo through the room. Her eyes leap back to his face to see that he’s staring at her with such rage that she actually takes a step back.

He doesn’t want to let her go though, evidently, because he follows her movement until he is looming over her. He’s close enough that she can feel his heated breath on her upturned face, and she can’t help but think that these are not the circumstances she had envisioned getting him this close. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Diggle move to stand with a restraining hand on his shoulder, which Oliver promptly ignores.

“Government issue listening bug,” he murmurs to her, a shiver of surprise and fear running up her spine at the anger and implication of his words. “You were saying?”

He pushes past her without another word, leaving her clutching her shoulder where his rock hard body had slammed into her to get to the elevators. Her eyes narrow at the spot he has just vacated as she ignores the wetness of fear in her eyes and she wills her annoyance away. Slowly, her fists begin to unclench from where they dig into her side. She turns suddenly toward Digg, spinning on her heels, and fixing him with a look.

“So, maybe I can see how this might be my fault. This time. But he’s made the wrong decision plenty of times. How do you never get tempted to say anything to him?”

She watches her friend sigh, lets his arms swing down to sides as he looks up at her in earnest. She can always tell when John is about to get honest, because all sarcasm is just wiped off his face. “Oliver went a long time on that island, making all the decisions by himself. Every day, he had to decide what the best way to survive was. And he didn’t have anyone to turn to when the decision got hard. You can see it in the he holds onto his past so tightly, and the way his face goes blank sometimes, like he’s back there making the wrong decision all over again. For five years, he had to learn to act quickly, make a choice and if it was the wrong one, keep going because it’s already done, decision made.”

Digg takes a step forward, and she knows he can see the sadness in her eyes, the softness in her face. She’s forgiven him without even asking herself for permission first. “He seems okay on the outside, because he remembers how to smile and he covers up his scars, but he’s scarred on the inside too and that’s something he can’t cover up. The things he had to do on that island, the things he went through, they reshaped who he is on the inside. It doesn’t matter that he’s back home again, because he will always be the man that was on the island, making hard decisions, and unable to be swayed because by the time he’s decided, it’s already too late. There’s no point in trying to change his mind. To him, the second he decides he’s going to do it, it’s already been done.”

She doesn’t feel the tear slip out, because as much as she wishes they wouldn’t, his words ring true. He’s such a good man, she sees it underneath the Hood and his “Ollie persona.” He cares about people and he wants to right his wrongs just as strongly as he wants to right his father’s. He doesn’t deserve the damage that has been inflicted on him. He deserves so much more than being a scarred vigilante, all alone. He deserves to have everything he wants. And it physically pains her that she can’t give any of that to him.

Diggle’s hand lands lightly on her shoulder and she smiles up at him. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Apparently, I’m Dr. Phil today.”

Felicity snorts and turns toward the elevator. “Let’s go find our vigilante.”

 

~

 

He sighs in resignation, as he heads out the doors of Queen Consolidated, at the lecture he’s sure to get the second he gets in the van. He can still hear Casey’s snide comment, “ _Quick thinking, Bartowski, asking her on a date instead of actually moving in on the_ mission at hand.”

Felicity just doesn’t seem like the kind of person to aid and abed a criminal. She’s kind. But he knows he can’t say any of that to Casey or Sarah, because they think the only thing he has to offer is the Intersect and any judge of character he ever prided himself with is completely flawed. He’s mulling over that fact, waiting for the van to pull up to the sidewalk, when he hears Felicity’s voice again.

“…It’s just annoying that he thinks I can’t handle myself. I am perfectly capable of keeping my feelings in check when I am doing something Arrow-related. Remember that time my head almost got blown up, I wasn’t _that_ hysterical—“

Chuck’s eye jerk up to where Felicity and Oliver Queen’s driver –John Diggle? –are walking out of the building and toward the parking garage. He quickly ducks behind the large QC sign and watches them disappear, his mind working on overdrive. He can’t believe she’s actually working with the Arrow! And Oliver Queen’s driver is in on it too? He can’t connect all the information into an image that makes sense to him, and this is one of those moments when he wishes that he could flash on command.

Panic and confusion propelling his mind and body into action, he quickly sets his phone down on the sidewalk, knowing that Sarah and Casey will be tracking the GPS in it. He races after the couple into the parking garage to see them a few yards ahead. He ducks behind a BMW and watches them walk over to a Bentley and a little red Mazda 2. He can hear them chatting, casually. He tries to listen, because maybe they’ll say something about where they’re going.

“…Just need to think about every action we make right now, Felicity. I mean, who knows what all they heard off that bug.”

Bug? Had they found the bug he had planted? Oh no, so that’s why it was taking Sarah and Casey so long to get him. They were probably trying to figure out what went wrong with it.

“I know that!” Felicity says, indignantly. She sighs. “I don’t know, I think I just need a little time away from him right now. I’ll meet you at the Foundry after I go have my De-stress Time.”

The _foundry_? He makes a mental note to go look up its significance later.

“Felicity, we all know your ‘De-stress Time’ is just you eating mint chocolate chip ice cream at home listening to Neil Diamond and The Commodores.”

“Ignoring that _major_ invasion of privacy—do you want me to bring some Big Belly Burger on my way over? I mean, Ihave a dinner date, but I just _know_ you and Broody Mc Arrow-stuck-up-his-ass—“

“Felicity!”

“—Are going to train down there all night ‘til you drop and-or a bad guy steps out of line.” She continues, as if he hadn’t interrupted.

“They’re talking about the Arrow,” Chuck whispers to himself, too shocked not to voice his realization.

The man, Mr. Diggle, sighs, as if this kind of talk is far too common among his partners. “Yes, fine, okay. Big Belly Burger is fine.”

They separate and get into their own cars, Felicity in the Mazda and Diggle in the Bentley. As they drive past his hiding spot, Chuck ducks down deeper into the corner. When they’ve passed, he runs back out to the sidewalk where the van has been pulled up haphazardly, the front tire parked on the sidewalk. Sarah is standing where he left his phone, holding it in one hand and looking around in rising concern. He calls out to her, so that she won’t get too worried, speeding up as he draws closer.

“Sarah! I’m here.”

When she hears his voice, her gut unclenches in relief. She runs forward to meet him halfway, her hands reaching up to his broad shoulders instinctively to check him. “Chuck! Are you okay? What happened?”

She watches his face carefully as he looks down at her. “I’m fine, it’s okay—“

“Something happened to the bug, we were listening –sounds like John Diggle and another man are involved with the Arrow –and then suddenly it was just static.”

“Yeah, they found it.”

“ _What? Did she call vigilante?_ ”

“No, no,” he reassured, habitually grasping her hands from off his upper arms and pulling them down to their sides. “I just overheard them. I followed them into the parking garage.”

“Them?”

“Oh, yeah, John Diggle was here, walking Felicity to her car.”

Sarah suddenly realizes, in the wake of her calming panic, that she is still clutching his hands at their sides. She innocuously pulls her hands out of his grip. She frowns, her attention reverting back to the original line of conversation. “Well, did you hear anything from them?”

“Huh?” Chuck’s eyes, which had followed her hands as she had pulled them away from his, now met hers again, catching up. “Uh, no. No. They were just talking about the Arrow. Apparently, Felicity is mad at him, because he doesn’t think she can outsmart me.”

“Outsmart you in what?” she asks, noting the way he seems to be closing himself off.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, let’s prove him wrong.”

They both look up to see Casey standing a step behind Sarah. His arms are crossed over his puffed-out chest and he has that self-assured smirk on his face that usually means he’s about to insult Chuck’s intelligence. Sarah moves around so that she’s mostly facing both men, effectively pulling herself out of arms reach, Chuck notices.

“I don’t know about Boy-Genius over here, but I’m up for a fight.”

 

~

 

“…And so, unfortunately, I’m not going to be able to come tonight, I’m really sorry and I hope we can reschedule for another time—“

Felicity just barely finishes her voicemail as she absent-mindedly punches in the code to the Foundry basement, when she hears a familiar voice and stops at the first step. Confused, she listens harder.

“ _Computer emergency…?_ ” From down in the basement –yep –she can definitely hear Chuck’s voice. She takes the stairs two at a time, ( _not_ an easy feat in these heels) panic rising, if it’s even possible.

At the bottom of the stairs, she can see Chuck standing near her desk with all her equipment, silver folder in one hand, and arms raised to the ceiling –where his eyebrows are. His mouth is hanging open in fear, as he pants heavily, and it probably has something to do with the arrow pointed straight at his head.

She runs forward without thinking. “ _Chuck?_ ”

For a moment, he looks surprised –which he should –but it passes quickly, making her wonder why he isn’t more worried about his date finding him in what is clearly the Arrow’s lair. What he says next makes her wonder even more. “Wait.” His eyes narrow and he drops an arm to check his watch. “It’s seven-thirty. You were going to stand me up.”

Understanding dawns on her as she connects her Security Breach warning text with the sight before her. “Yeah, I just explained it to your voicemail. I _would’ve_ been free, except I got called back into work due to another break-in.”

The sarcastic cynicism lacing her voice surprises even her as an unexpected wave of bitterness hits her. How dare he accuse her when he was _sneaking around_ her stuff again? She feels betrayed in a way that forces her to reconsider her argument on being able to separate her feelings from the task at hand. A boot scuff of impatience draws her eye to Oliver where he still aims his bow at Chuck.

“Oh, put that down.” She likes that the annoyance with one man is able to leak over to the other.

He doesn’t obey at first, but after a moment, he concedes. He lowers the bow, but keeps the arrow holstered in place, which she gets. Chuck visibly relaxes, letting out a long breath he must’ve been holding back. She watches his body deflate with a slight frown, still pissy about his distrust.

“Why are you here, Chuck? And don’t tell me you’re here to fix our computers, because I installed all of this equipment myself, and if it needed fixing it would already be done.”

As she says this, she notices how he doesn’t even turn to look at Oliver, even though Oliver is still armed and his back is vulnerable. He must not be very trained if he is so easily sated. He’s lucky we’re not the bad guys, she thinks almost off-handedly. Oliver moves agilely toward the table to their left, deftly grabbing his voice scrambler from where its packed into its open casing –alongside all of his other cool gadgets that she hadn’t noticed until now sit open and vulnerable. Her gaze flicks back to Chuck as he juggles with a response.

“I –I followed you, yes.” He admits lamely, but jumps to continue when her eyebrow lifts. “But just because I overheard your conversation with Oliver Queen’s driver, Mr. Diggle, and I was worried you were mixed up in some kind of trouble with the Arrow, which I now see,” he takes a breath, “I was right.”

To her left, she can see Oliver tense and she knows that things are about to get ugly if she doesn’t jump in now. “We know about the hack, Chuck. We know it was you who tried breaking into our server, and that it was you who left the bug.”

Chuck’s eyes bug out for a second before he comes to terms with being caught. His shoulders hang and he looks like he’s about to concede when Oliver says, “We want to know why you’re doing this. Who you’re trying to get information for.”

Luckily he’s hooked up the voice scrambler and his words are now just a deep unrecognizable purr. Felicity and Chuck both look over at him in surprise. But before anything else can happen, a shrill beeping emanates from Chuck’s watch and they all watch the red pulsing light for a second before a flash of green and a _whoosh_ of a breeze flies past it. Felicity’s gaze jerks back to Oliver, where he’s slowly lowering his bow.

“Are you _serious?_ You could’ve hit him!”

“And I still might,” he responds, moving closer to pluck up the offending device. He holds it up to Chuck, only about a foot of space separating them as he continues, “ _What. Is. It._ ”

He gulps compulsively before murmuring, “Tracking device.”

Felicity’s eyes –wide with apprehension –follow the ruined watch as Oliver tosses it in frustration. At about that moment, Digg comes bounding down the stairs in earnest. His warning is just a second slower than the one emailed to her phone, alerting her _once again_ that there has been a—

“Security Breach!” he exclaims loudly, before taking in the scene in front of him: Hooded Oliver, Pissed-Off Felicity and Out-Of-Place Chuck. “Ooooh, shit.”

Felicity is the first to break the awkward silence. “It’s okay, he knows about you and me.”

He catches her slight nod toward Oliver, whose Hood is still up, and takes it to mean that he doesn’t know about him. He nods inconspicuously. “Okay, well. Do we know who’s breaking in?”

“That would be my people.” Chuck says, as if it’s something he has come to say too often.

“Great.” Digg replies, off-handedly. “So how _many_ people are finding out about us today?”

“You can blame that on Felicity,” Oliver’s Arrow voice sounds odd using sarcasm so lightly. She can see that she’s not the only one it surprised when she catches Chuck’s badly restrained expression.

“Excuse me, I _don’t_ see how this is my fault.” She defends immediately.

“How about insisting on having a casual meeting with a government agent-slash-hacker by yourself?” Oliver counters easily, and she can _just_ feel them sliding into their usual argument mode –her, already stepping forward so that she has to tilt her head up to make eye contact, him squaring his shoulders in preparation for her onslaught –when John interrupts.

“Uh, guys. As much as I’d love to listen to the two of you bicker and eventually have to step in, don’t you think we should be handling the break-in _currently in progress?_ ”

Oliver looks up at that, instantly sliding back into “Dead Serious Arrow mode.” He nods once, grabs an arrow and holstering it in one swift move and follows Digg to another part of the Foundry. Felicity watches until she can’t see them anymore, glad that she doesn’t have to help fight. She turns back to Chuck where he’s staring helplessly at his destroyed watch several feet away. She comes to stand in front of him.

“Can I trust you not call out to them or must I use duct tape?” She asks, voice deadpanned, but there’s a quirk in her lips and a twinkle in her eye that somehow puts him at ease.

Still, he hesitates and her face softens even more. “It’ll be okay, I swear.”

He gives her that half-smile. “I promise not to call out.”

She nods, pulls him to a corner behind a badly beaten training dummy, and kneels beside him in the near darkness. She doesn’t realize that her hand is resting on his knee until they hear a loud _thwack_ –both jumping in concern for their partners –and she gives it a squeeze. He oddly feels the urge to comfort her, laying his hand over hers and squeezing back.

“You sure your friends won’t hurt my friends?” he murmurs, only half joking.

Her nose scrunches up as she asks, “Do I seem like the kind of person with those types of friends?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lastly, just wanna add that i'm sorry that this story is being so hideously slow, i mean I expected it but i didn't expect it, nah'm sayinnnn????
> 
> thank you so much for reading and responding to this story, it means so much to me you don't understand! please continue to do so, and I assure you, angst, flirtations, tension, and jealous are all to come in the next chapter so be readaaayyyy~


	4. On the Brink of Oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole gang teams up and some stuff happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanna apologize immensely for the abhorrent delay. Computer was on the fritz and I was just able to get it running again. So this chap will be a lil shorter. Very sorry bout dat.
> 
> In other news, I colored coded the characters POV on my laptop so I thought I might add that on here. If I’m feeling frisky :) but idk how so for now it’s just plain ole’ b&w
> 
> Lastly I want to add: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE FOLLOWING CHARACTERS THAT COME FROM EITHER OF THESE TV SHOWS, ALSO THE LINES THAT ARE FAMILIAR ARE PULLED DIRECTLY FROM THE EPISODES THANK YOU
> 
> That’s enough capitalization eh?
> 
> JK I FOUND OUT THAT I REALLY REALLY ENJOY WRITING FROM SARAHS POV IN THIS CHAP????//// SO EXPECT LOTS MORE OF THAT IN THE FUTURE
> 
> (Had a thought – is it ironic or is it ironic that chuck ‘flashes’ and he’s replaced ‘the flash’ on the arrow episode in which he is introduced?????//// ‘mazing righhht???)

Consciousness seeps into her slowly, through creeping transitions of the initial dull gray confusion to eventual recognition to immediate alertness. She is used to waking up like this, something that has been settling an odd taste on her tongue and a scratchy tightness in her throat ever since she began looking at The Intersect and, instead, seeing Chuck.

She locks that train of thought away because if she analyzes it in seriousness it could result in very dangerous repercussions. Instead, she tries to focus on her body, the way she had been trained to. One body part first: her toes. They were cold, pressed into a hard surface that felt smooth and grimy. She moved from there to the arch of her feet to her heels and ankles. They were wrapped tightly to what felt like the leg of a chair. Quickly she moves from one body part to another, deducing that she was definitely tied up to a chair, each ankle and wrist tied to a different leg or to the bars that make up the back of it.

Sarah opens her eyes slowly, as stimulation begins to seep into her body, and notes the dim sickly light before the wave of pain appears in her head. She remembers its origin is in the place where she had been hit right before she had fallen unconscious. Squinting against the already dull greenish light, she looks around, trying to gather her bearings. Her last memory is of tracking down her recently missing asset to Oliver Queen’s sister’s nightclub. She and Casey had snuck in through a window in the upstairs office and begun searching for Chuck when a shadow appeared to her right. By the time she had turned to look for Casey, he was out cold a step behind her, and someone had struck her from behind. Everything after that was blank.

It is no surprise to see Casey leaning heavily in a metal chair beside her. She knows she can’t reach him from this far without calling attention to whoever is watching her. She knew it the moment their eyes landed on her.

“What’s your real name, Ms. Trouffeau?”

“What’s yours?” she responds immediately, watching the Arrow step into the green light with calculating eyes.

“That’s not how this works. You’re the ones tied up.” He says, voice deep and distorted. He turns stiffly to his right and motions toward someone Sarah can’t see.

Felicity Smoak appears, pushing Chuck ahead of her into the circle. His hands are held behind his back and sweat glistens on his forehead. Light brown eyes flicker open and instantly find hers. She sees his anxiety there and doesn’t think before jerking her hands against her restraints in an attempt to reach forward. When it’s clear she isn’t escaping by brute force, her anger is redirected.

“What do you want?”

“Now that’s my line. We’re the ones tied up.” Sarah reminds, voice light.

“You’re also the ones that broke into our Headquarters.”

Her eyes skate back to Chuck, eyebrow raised as she remembers her earlier annoyance at his solo mission. “We were looking for someone. Looks like you found him.”

The Arrows deep voice pulls her attention back to him again, as he takes a step closer. “You’re very funny, Ms. Trouffeau, but it would be in your best interest that you answer the question.”

When she doesn’t budge, gaze locked on his shadowy face and jaw set, he hisses in frustration and swiftly draws his bow. The tip of the arrow is inches from her face and she feels herself gulp. “ _Answer the question_ —“

“Stop!” Chuck voice echoes in the huge room. No one moves. “Please, just stop. Put the – bow and arrow down. We’ll talk.”

“Chuck, _no._ ” Sarah breathes, eyes on the arrow. “Don’t. Do. It.”

“Sarah, come on. I’m not going to let some psycho _archer_ impale you with an arrow! We’re a team—“

“I’ve been shot with worse. I can take it. Besides, he won’t kill me. He’s recently found morals… Must be your work, right?” She says, eyes on Smoak.

Her face is filled with fear, eyes as large as an owls. She glances at Sarah bashfully, but her gaze immediately turns back to the hooded man. She sounds pleading when she says, “Just let him talk. Come on, Boss.”

Chuck doesn’t wait for any more goading, much to Sarah’s frustration. “We’re government agents. We work together on a joint task team. We’re in Starling City to find out who broke into the Queen’s Consolidated warehouse—“

“And you think that’s me.”

“No! I mean, not – you weren’t on our suspect list or anything like that. Like I said before, I was just trying to figure out what was going on with Felicity and then I found this place on the internet, and even though the blueprints said there was a sublevel it wasn’t in the building inspection that came with it, so I started thinking ‘what better place to hide a secret lair than a popular club everyone goes to?’ So I came here and overrode the system to get in…except I didn’t consider the possibility of a silent alarm being tripped and now we’re full circle.”

Sarah drops her head to the back of the chair in defeat, a breath leaving her lips in a puff. That was Chuck’s biggest problem. He was intelligent and clever and lucky, but all of that goes out the window under the pressure of torture. She ignores the fact that he was willing to admit so much to keep her from getting hurt and focuses on the fact that their identities are now successfully blown.

“Please, tell me you believe me.”

She looks up to see that the arrow is still pointed at her. But, as quickly as it was holstered, he drops it again. He sets the arrow back into its pouch on his back and shifts the bow into his less dominate hand. He takes a step back and shifts lithely on his heel so that he’s facing both Chuck and Sarah.

“Okay. Say I do. How do I know Ms. Smoak’s identity and our home base location are secure?”

“The same way we know _our_ identities are.” Sarah replies, eyes glancing at Chuck before turning back. “Trust me.”

 

~

 

Felicity watches as Oliver leans over and unties Chuck’s partner. The second her left hand is free, she turns to her right and then down to her legs. Felicity jerks into motion, quickly unlocking Chuck from his cuffs and brushing past Oliver to the man still unconscious and tied up. The tall blonde woman gets to him first, brushes her hands away.

“I got it.” She says, eyes narrowed before turning back to her partner.

Felicity pulls away and looks at Oliver. She can’t be sure, but she think he’s looking at her. His arm twitches in her direction, but stays pulled into his side. Of course. She shouldn’t have hoped for more.

The second the burly man is untied, the woman jumps up and heads straight for Chuck. She touches his shoulder and looks him up and down, back to Felicity and Oliver. “Are you okay, Chuck?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, Sarah.” Chuck reassures. He smiles tightly at her before looking up at Felicity and asking, “So what now?”

“ _Now_ ,” Oliver says tightly, moving to stand nearly in front of Felicity. “You and your friends swear your silence on your life. Or I force you to forget what you know.”

She can’t help herself. She reaches out and pinches him on his side for the theatrics. He flinches and turns to look at her. She can just barely see his eyes in the low light and they’re filled with wonder.

“What?” He hisses at her.

“We’re not leaving Starling City until we’ve finished the mission. But you can help us with our case. That way turning you in would be turning ourselves in.”

Felicity, Oliver, Chuck and Sarah all turn to see the burly man standing erectly in front of his chair. He glances at his partners and gives them a snide smile before turning back to Oliver. He raises his hand toward Oliver.

“What do you say?”

 

~

 

Oliver watches his new partners leave with a hitch in his chest. He knows he is supposed to be feeling relief at having help or a sense of satisfaction that he had their trust, but all he can think about is now they know where his base is. They know that Felicity is working with him. Who knows, Chuck may even tell them about Digg. Both their identities will be discovered soon, and Oliver is the first person they’ll look at when that happens. He feels completely out of control over who does or doesn’t find out his identity.

“Guys, the secret lair isn’t really a secret if you keep inviting everybody down into it.” Digg states sardonically as he moves out of the shadows to lean against one of Felicity’s desks. “Cause, you know, the whole point of a _secret_ lair is that it’s a _secret_.”

She appears at his side, expression strangely open. She glances anxiously at Oliver as she says, “But I think we can trust them.

He nods slowly, turns to stand in front of them. “Maybe.”

He hears her sigh from where he’s staring at the floor in thought. “Oliver—“

“Let’s just hope we can trust them, eh?” He glances down at his phone where it’s buzzing with the arrival of a text. “I have to go to see my mother. We’ll talk about this later.”

 

~

 

Back at home, Oliver finds his mother in the living room, sitting on the couch with a scotch in her hand. She sits like a perfect lady with her legs crossed, elbows in. Nobody would be able to tell just by looking at her that just last month she sat in a prison cell wearing a gray jumpsuit.

“Hello mother.”

Moira jumps, then turns and smiles warmly up at his face. “Oh, Oliver. You startled me… I, uh, thought you might be someone else.”

“How are you, after what happened Monday?”

“Oliver, we all know not many people want to see me running the business again, after what happened. Too many people look at my face and see a woman who got away with murder.” She murmurs, head cast down. “Maybe I did.”

“The Undertaking, Malcom Merlyn, all of that is behind you now, Mom. And you need to make everyone see that.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” She asks, amusement evident in her voice.

Oliver knows he needs to be his mother’s son right now. He needs to be the careless supporter that she raised, not the untrusting man he was molded into on the island. He responds the way he knows he would’ve were he still that boy. “We throw a party. A Welcome Back to the Business party. If things are going to get back to normal around here, we need to start acting normal.”

“God knows that is normal for us… Fine, Oliver, but I’m not calling the guests—“

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll take care of everything.”

He kisses her heated cheek and leaves the room, mask falling the second his back is turned. He hates seeing his mother like this. All his life she has been so strong and unflappable. It kills him that this situation has her so shaken and jumpy, like she’s starting to _feel_ guilty. God knows no one could blame her for having ghosts she wants to smother, but he smelled her breath when he leaned in. She never would’ve folded so easily if not for the alcohol.

 

~

 

“What exactly is she looking for?” Sarah hears the girl ask.

They’re back at the Queen Consolidated’s Applied Sciences Division where they’ve set up some supplies from their arsenal of forensics section down in Castle and begun waiting for Casey to get back from the precinct to gather any more information they might’ve gotten on the case recently. She is currently crouching over the ridiculously large footprints on the floor with a magnifying glass and a pair of ‘glorified tweezers’, as Chuck called them. She’s just got a feeling that with all the footprints, the killer _must’ve_ left some kind of trace. Of course, the Smoak girl would have no way of knowing that. The knowledge doesn’t keep the disdain out of Sarah’s voice.

“Your thief’s shoes touched the ground. Which means he tracked in enough evidence to determine where he’s been the last few days…. Gotcha.”

She stands, mind already back on the task at hand. Definitely not on the way that Chuck is standing way too close to the Smoak girl. I mean, it’s not like the girl can’t tell. He’s close enough that if he blew out in her direction, she would probably feel it. But Sarah doesn’t even notice, because she’s too busy placing the particle into the analyzer and hutting its hatch.

Chuck then turns to the computer and begins the analysis process. Felicity follows him to the monitor and watches every step over his shoulder. Sarah looks away from the closeness of the two and walks back around the desk to turn the black light off. She still isn’t looking as they both realize how close they’re standing to each other and turn to give each other shy smiles.

“ _Ugh, get a room.”_

“What?”

Sarah looks up from where she’s crouching on the ground again to see the Smoak girl staring at her with those damn innocent owl eyes. She feels a flush creep into her face as she realizes she might’ve just been overheard. She quickly covers, “I need a broom. Do you know where I can get one?”

“Oh, here’s one!”

She struts over to a table a few feet away and comes back with an old wooden broom with straw at the end instead of plastic. Sarah takes it without making eye contact with either of the geniuses staring at her and begins sweeping up nothing at all from the floor. Thank god she’s the only one here with any knowledge on forensics measures at all.

“So you’ve been working with the Arrow for a while right?” Chuck asks. Sarah turns in her sweeping so that she doesn’t have to hear _and_ see this conversation. “Why do you think he chose green? And the bow and arrow? I mean, if I was going for stealth and in-detectability I would go with black. And, like, silencer gun.”

“Didn’t really give it much thought.” The girl murmurs evasively, and even her voice sounds cut off. Sarah is almost tempted to turn and examine the girl, assess what is causing her to shut down. It could be Sarah’s presence, but something tells her it’s got more to do with the subject of the conversation than the atmosphere surrounding the conversation.

“But you do trust him.” Chuck plows on obliviously. “Right? You wouldn’t be working for him if you didn’t at least believe in his cause.”

There is a moment of silence, in which Sarah’s curiosity and ever-present urge to protect Chuck forces her to turn back to the couple. Felicity is intensely examining a case of test tubes Sarah had brought just in case and Chuck is examining her.

“Chuck.” She cuts in, just before he can continue. “Focus.”

He nods, and she spins back around. But her warning clearly only spurs him to lower his volume.

“I knew he must have had partners. Some of the gangs he fought… There was no one way he got out of there alone. And the information he obtained, the firewall securing his location and the fact that the cops never had any real leads on his identity? Those hacks were just too impressive not to have a pro behind them.”

Sarah glances over her shoulder at this, to see that Felicity has looked up at him as well. She gives him a small smile and makes Sarah’s gut lurch, so she finishes pretending to sweep and walks back around the desk to stand before the now forgotten monitor.

“Well, what about you?” Felicity inquires straightforwardly. “How did _the Piranha_ get to be a Government agent?”

_The Piranha_? Sarah has never even heard that before. Do they already have inside jokes? For the first time since she’s met Chuck she wonders how much she doesn’t know about him. She shouldn’t think it for any reason other than safety purposes and she doesn’t. That’s exactly why this new relationship bothers her so much. He’s her asset. She is trained to protect him from any unseen variables and therefore she needs to know everything about him.

“Let’s just say I’m more of a computer guy than an agent.”

“Did they find you through your hacks?”

Hacks? As in computer hacks? Sarah forces her eyes on the screen in front of her, attempting to pour all of her focus into the analyzing engine. But she is lucky they don’t ask her how much percent the analysis is done, because she wouldn’t know.

“No, uh.” He laughs awkwardly, and glances over at Sarah. She meets his eyes for a second, but to him, her gaze is blank. “They found me through an old friend. But he’s gone now.”

She doesn’t even realize her hand is reaching for his shoulder until she sees the movement mimicked from Chuck’s other side. It pulls her back into reality and she quickly reigns her arm back into her side as Felicity touches his arm and he turns to smile at her.

A beep from the monitor causes her to turn back away from the couple again, and she’s glad for the distraction. She sees that the analysis is complete, but the data confuses her.

“Chuck?”

He comes to stand beside her and she shifts away to give him space (See? This is how you give some space, Miss Smoak!). He begins typing and murmurs, “The soil… There’s a crystalline structure in it. That’s weird.”

“What is it, Chuck?” Sarah asks, worry already stitching her brow.

“It’s sugar.” Felicity responds from over her shoulder.

 

~

 

“What did you find?”

Chuck looks up to see Oliver Queen and John Diggle striding confidently toward the group. Sarah and Casey stand on the opposite side of the desk, where they’ve been working the last thirty minutes since Casey came back from the precinct empty-handed. Felicity’s head jerks up as well from where she is standing to his right. At the new arrivals, her body immediately straightens into attention. The movement causes their shoulders to brush and he glances down at her again. Her cheeks are pink and it makes him grin.

But before she can respond to her boss, Sarah speaks up, her voice dripping authority. “There were trace amounts of sucrose in a spec of dirt the killer dragged in on his tread—“

“Which got me thinking.” Felicity adds adamantly. “There’s a sugar refinery two miles away from here. The land around it is suffused in waste sugar. So we checked and…”

“They had a delivery truck stolen a couple of days ago. The truck is the exact make and model of the truck the thief used to steal the centrifuge.” He finishes, thoughts on the way Felicity’s whole body leaned in as she explained the situation to Oliver.

“Can you track the vehicle?” Casey asks, intense glare on Felicity.

“We’ve uh, been trying, sir, Colonel, sir.”

Chuck smiles softly at that. The things they had talked about earlier had only made him like her more. They have so much in common, and the way she talks about the things most important to her are something he can relate to. Being forced into a complete double life, but also not even sure if you could live without it anymore. He misses that connection with another person, someone who is willing to open up to him and actually communicate.

Of course, he can’t help comparing Felicity to Sarah, but not because he can’t help noticing whenever she’s in the room or because they’re the exact opposite of each other. Nope. Not that. It’s probably because she is the last person he’s dated (if you can call it that). He knows the tallies are stacked in Felicity’s favor, and she is an amazing person to spend time with, but he can’t stop wondering what Sarah thinks when she hears his answers to Felicity's questions. If she would laugh at his stupid jokes like she used to before everything got so awkward and disjointed in their relationship.

A beeping generating from the monitor behind them pulls Chuck from his thoughts.

“Uh, Felicity?” Queen’s driver Diggle speaks. “What was that?”

The three of them all turn and examine the screen. They must all gather the information at the same time because he notices that they all look up at once.

“The truck was just used to rob a blood bank,” Sarah announces, disbelief coloring her voice.

“Are you sure?” Diggle questions.

Sarah glances back up at the large man in surprise and, as her expression slowly changes, Casey and Chuck share a look. Sarah is a generally level-headed spy, but when pushed past her limit, she’s scarier than Casey.

“I may not be a computer hacker, but I _am_ a CIA agent and I can read a police report.”

Digg nods, small smirk on his face. Chuck doesn’t understand how he isn’t cowering at the venom in the woman’s voice. “I like her.”

Chuck then watches in amazement as Sarah’s anger breaks instantly and, after a moment, she throws a smirk back at him. God, he loves her – in a completely platonic way, of course. He drags his attention away from Sarah’s glowing face and back to the conversation at hand with much difficulty.

“What does it say?” Oliver asks.

“Our guy just made off with 30,000 CCs of O-Negative,” Felicity reads off the screen, glancing up to look at Oliver.

Casey turns to Sarah and murmurs, “You telling me this guy’s got super strength, likes blood— First, Robin Hood – we chasing after vampires now too?”

It’s not loud enough for Oliver to hear, but both Felicity and Chuck turn to glare at Casey. He promptly ignores them both.

“Diggle?” Oliver says suddenly. He nods his head in the direction they came, and guides his guard away from the group.

Figuring the meeting is over, Chuck turns back to Felicity. He asks her to explain the hack she used on him that first time and they immediately become immersed in the work.

 

~

 

“Yes, Boss?” Digg asks sardonically, eyeing his friend and partner curiously.

“Do _you_ feel certain we can trust these guys, Digg?” He asks, voice the opposite of reassuring. He is still facing the clump of people they had just departed from, his hand on Diggle’s upper arm. “They’re almost too efficient.”

“Oliver,” He says, waiting for his friend to look at him. He feels the need to address this as lamely as possible. “Like the girl said, they’re _Government Agents_. It is their job to be efficient.”

He watches as the intelligent confident man in front of him fidgets self-consciously and stares aggressively at the least threatening enemy they’ve ever had. He fights the growing amusement as he glances in the same direction. His own eyes do catch on a few things that are clearly meant to not be noticed. Only vaguely interested, he catalogues his musings for later use.

“But I’ve noticed irregularities; like, Chuck? He doesn’t seem to possess any training for captive situations. He completely lets his guard down at any concession. His fighting skills are obsolete. He seems very skittish of guns. Does that sound like a government agent to you?”

“Didn’t they say he was some kind of computer analyst or something?” He counters, uninterested in Oliver’s obvious petty dislike.

At that, Oliver looks back at Diggle frowning as if he is the one acting stupid in this situation. “All I know, Diggle, is that last week he was hacking into our server’s mainframe. What if his partners aren’t even aware of his intentions?”

Oliver has a point there. The kid is potentially dangerous with a keyboard in his lap, but he won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it when it’s much more fun to just say, “His intentions seem pretty clear to me.”

Oliver’s head jerks back to glare at the offender in question and Diggle follows his gaze in undeniable amusement. Together, they watch the couple lean over the monitor screen, shoulders brushing and heads dipping toward each other.

 

~

 

Casey glances up at Chuck’s obnoxiously loud laughter as Smoak says something that’s apparently too funny to be _quiet_ about. He stops what he’s doing for a second to watch the happy geeks have foreplay on the computer screen. When he notices Sarah has stopped to look up at them as well, he groans, “Great. Now there’s two of them.”

“What?” Sarah asks innocently, as if she hasn’t been watching the same nauseating scene as him.

“Don’t tell me you don’t notice the insufferable nerd lust in the air every time these two are in a room together?” He counters, turning back to the box where he's been carefully placing the black lights back into.

He hears Sarah sigh from behind where he’s knelt. “Casey. That’s totally inappropriate.”

Now it’s his turn to sigh. The fact that she has been able to keep this up as long as she has without admitting her feelings to herself is just amazing, honestly. It’s ridiculously tedious to him, however. He stands and shifts around so that he’s facing his partner fully. He wraps his arms over his chest and watches her for a moment in awe and also annoyance.

“Same bit with you, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks breathily as she pulls a very weighty fingerprint lifter up onto a table. She doesn’t look up when she’s done though, just leans forward on the table, eyes on the machine.

“Means you fall for the guys you work with. First Bryce, now our boy Chuck.”

Sarah’s eyes jerk up then, and there’s protest there, frustration and indignity, but also shame and weariness. He doesn’t need her to admit it in words. She’s already told anyone willing to look. “Bryce… was a mistake, and I have _not_ fallen for _Chuck_.”

“Good, because it looks like you went and got yourself dumped.” He responds, grinning at himself when she frowns just like he expected.

For all the crap he gives her, Casey is aware that Walker’s a good partner. She’s smart, quick, and less than emotional, which he silently appreciates. But every time the moron has to go and talk about his lady feelings, Sarah ends up in a less than welcome funk for weeks on end. It’s like being locked in a room with two people playing relationship chicken for all of eternity. Because neither of them will ever admit that they actually want to be together (which might actually be worse than the hell he’s in now) and so the game will never end.

As he walks out of the warehouse, carrying two boxes of forensics supplies, he stops beside Oliver Queen and his bodyguard – who are staring directly at the same couple Sarah is directly avoiding – and glances back one more time. Yep. Still nauseating.

“Looks like we’re going to have little nerd babies in ties and glasses running around here pretty soon, eh, boys?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again very sorry it took so long to update, it couldn't be helped. but i hope you all read and enjoy this chap -- it was made all special for you!!!!


	5. Hope Breeds Eternal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Casey have a lil chit chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not so much in this chap bc I have been super busy, but I'm going on vacae in a few weeks for summer and so I will have plenty of time to write more then :))

~

Oliver frowns at the laces on his Arrow boots, thoughts on the stolen truck. He wasn't thinking about Felicity and her new friend or the fact that Digg and that other agent, Casey, seemed to have shared opinions on the budding relationship. It doesn't matter, because Felicity is just his partner. In business!

He's thinking about Shado and Slade, two of his closest friends on the island that he lost. He has tried not to think about them and their demise ever since he got back, but seeing what the intruder did to that door... Oliver prays he's not right about this.

"The FBI profiled that the vigilante would be someone who came from nothing, because he'd feel disenfranchised and that's why he targets the wealthy."

Oliver's head snaps up at the words in surprise, body straining to attention. He had thought he was alone.

"We knew it was you the second the Moron told us about his technical communication with little Miss Felicity Smoak. Who else would she be working for that had the resources for the kind of gadgets the vigilante has?" Casey muses in a casual tone. He steps around the desk table Oliver had been leaning against.

"Are you here to arrest me?" He asks, voice venomous in comparison.

The man frowns in obvious disdain. "Goes against every belief I ever swore to. But no, we agreed to help if we could."

He moves around to stand in the middle of the room and glances around the Foundry walls. He continues, "No, I'm actually here about a different problem we share."

"Which is?" Oliver spits through gritted teeth.

"All teams have dynamics, as I'm sure you know. My team's dynamic revolves around Chuck. He has a...special skill that can only perform if his head is clear, and when his head isnt clear, my partner Sarah's mind isn't on the mission. It’s on Chuck. And that bouncy blonde is a definite distraction, and I know that you've noticed that too."

 "What's your point?" Oliver's face is flushed with thinly veiled fury.

"Look, don't mistake this conversation for one suggesting that I care a thing about your or my partner's love lives. Because I couldn't give a rat’s ass." He says abruptly, dropping the casual act. "But I need my team at their best and, for some reason, they're at their best when Chuck doesn't have any lady distractions."

"While that's all very interesting, Colonel, what does it have to do with me?" Oliver murmurs, unsure if he can control his unfounded annoyance if he speaks up.

He had liked to blame male interests for some of Felicity’s distracted behavior lately. Still the thought of helping the “partner” of Felicity’s romantic interest is less that desirable.

“You can play at being completely unfazed by your little gal-pal for your bodyguard all you want. I’m not stupid. And neither is she. If you don’t think Blondie notices the way you drool over her like some oversized pup than you’re insulting her obvious intelligence,” Casey says sounding almost bored, and turning to idly play with an arrow on the table. He glances up with a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he continues, “And you don’t have to be a computer genius to see that she wants in your pants just as bad—“

“ _What_ are you getting at, Agent Casey?” Oliver says, voice raising.

“Do us all a favor,” he exclaims abruptly. “And spill all your little lady feelings to her, so that she’ll stop drooling all over my guy and my partner can get her head out of her ass.”

With that, he turns and walks up the stairs, leaving Oliver to his thoughts, which weren’t any less confusing than before.

Of course Oliver noticed Felicity. She is a beautiful, strong, quirky mystery that somehow always says the right thing when no one else knows what will help. She makes him crazy with how stubborn she is and makes him laugh to the point of tears at how awkwardly hilarious she can be. She is an awkward little genius wrapped up in a super model’s body. She is completely unlike any woman he has ever met. Who wouldn’t be attracted to Felicity? But that didn’t mean that he _loved_ her. Not the way the he had loved Laurel, or Sara.

Either way it is a moot point, because he does like having Felicity around and she is an amazing person. He can never be with someone like her, someone so bright. He always finds a way to break that, in the girls that he’s with. Felicity is not going to be hurt or broken—or worse, _killed­—_ because Oliver let his emotions get out of check.

In this town that he sometimes seems to have no control over at all, that is one thing he _will not_ allow.

~

Oliver pulls up behind the truck. A quick glance at the license plate assures him he has the right vehicle. He revs, pulling toward the left. The truck jerks in that direction, cutting him off. He has to pull back at the last moment to avoid running into it. He swerves over to the right this time, tries to pull ahead, but just as quickly, the truck veers back into his lane.

Oliver curses in frustration and pulls an arrow from his back. He lifts his bow from its holster on the handlebar and takes aim. The arrow hits the rearview mirror and the truck swerves.

He pulls up on the left, engine revving, and lifts his upper half from his riding crouch. As he inches closer up the side of the truck. When he fills confident of his speed, he stands on the seat and leaps onto the top of the truck. The bike raises ahead as Oliver ducks onto the cab roof. When he sees the drivers head reach out to glance back, he turns and swoops in on him, feet first.

The man’s torso is flung to the side, but somehow he bounces upright almost immediately. Without notice, he yanks his forearm out like a steel bar and it feels that way too. Oliver feels his body fly backwards as he feels the breath get knocked out of him. The force of the slam swings Oliver into the hood, where he leans against the windshield for support.

But before he can get a hold on what to do next, the driver has punched through the window and yanked Oliver into the cab. Oliver grabs an arrow from the pouch on his back and attempts to stab through the driver’s leg, but to his bewilderment, it barely kneads past skin, bouncing back when it hits muscle.

Enraged, the driver beside him screams and punches Oliver so hard that he slams past the door and goes sliding out onto the road outside. The door catapults into a pile of trash bags, giving him cushion. Oliver holds up the arrow in astonishment to see that the arrowhead has been crumpled by the impact, blood glistening from end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone help me out here, was casey a major or a colonel??????????????
> 
> THANKS FOR READING AND LEAVING COMMENTS GUYS <333333


	6. Hungry for Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Chuck attempts to open up some eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty, so this chap got superrrrrrrrrr long, so i had to cut in half--SO, expect somewhat of a cliffhanger, but then just as quick expect a resolution :) 
> 
> I’m not saying the story is gonna take like three more chapters, but the story is prob gonna take about three more chapters—give or take. unless I decide I need more or less content, the outline I have drawn up is headed in that direction, so just to give a heads up this particular fic will def not extend further than ten chaps.

Felicity and Chuck were already heading to the warehouse when Oliver sent his SOS, so they beat even Oliver there. He comes crashing down the stairs clutching his side not long after, though, and clumsily trying to yank off his hood. Felicity rushes to his side immediately, wrapping her arm around his waist and letting him grip her shoulder to hold him up. She quickly guides him to her swivel chair and kneels in front of him to unzip his jacket.

“What happened?”

“He flung me from the cab.”

Felicity glances up from the bloody wound on the right side of his waist to stare in disbelief. “He _flung_?”

She studies his face, waiting for an answer. He sighs in defeat, forehead still crinkled in pain, but right before he speaks, Chuck comes walking up.

“Hey Oliver—ouch, that looks bad.”

Oliver turns to Chuck—who had been calling Sarah and Casey in the shadows—in surprise. When he recovers, he gives him a tight smile and says, “Feels bad.”

Felicity shakes her head, ignoring the sudden tension, because it is unimportant right now. She needs to focus on what is. “Oliver? How did he—“

“Later,” he cuts in, eyes meeting hers and not looking away until she gave him a brief nod.

“Okay.”

She turns and walks over to the steel cabinet with the medical supplies, pulling out cleaning swabs, gauze and tape. Without looking up, she speaks, “What did Sarah and Casey say, Chuck?”

“They got your text from the car, they should be here any minute.”

She nods as she looks up and walks back over to Oliver. He has now ridded himself of his Hood jacket and is completely shirtless, muscles tensed in pain. She gulps at the sight, attempting to reign in the very sudden attraction she feels every time she sees him like this. She kneels on the floor beside him and carefully guides his arm out of the way. She doesn’t even notice that she keeps her hand on his sweaty bicep as her other hand works deftly to wipe and clean the blood and potential dirt away from the wound. Oliver flinches and sucks in a breath every now and then, and her hold on his arm tightens with each one as she quickly murmurs an apology.

After a moment, Chuck comes to stand in front of them and clears his throat. When neither acknowledges the noise, he says, “So, this is something that happens a lot, huh? Oliver stumbling in with serious injuries and you nursing his wounds instead of taking him to the hospital?”

Without looking up, Felicity responds, “Well, how would we explain carting in a beaten Oliver Queen in a green hood to them?”

Before he can respond, they hear the entrance from Verdant opening and a second later Diggle, Sarah and Casey are bounding down the stairs together. Diggle heads straight for Oliver and Felicity, while Sarah and Casey halt at the edge of the room and Chuck quickly walks over to them.

“I would ask how it went, but I guess we already know the answer,” Digg comments sarcastically, eyes on the ugly gash fighting with Felicity’s bandaging.

“I have some new information, but I can’t talk to you about it right now.”

“Since apparently, we’re icing our new friends out again,” Felicity finishes, glancing over at Chuck, whom she hadn’t even realized had disappeared from her side.

“Felicity,” Oliver says in warning.

“No, she’s got a point. What is so important that it needs to be kept more in secret than your _identity_ , Oliver?” Diggle asks, pointedly.

“It’s not about keeping them out of the loop, Digg. It’s about keeping their bosses out of it. If the government knew… Look, Chuck and his friends just _can’t_ know about this,” Oliver mutters vehemently. He turns to look Felicity in the eye when he continues, “You _cannot_ tell him.”

She frowns, unsure whether she’s madder that he is keeping more secrets or that he wouldn’t trust her not to tell. Either way, it’s the distraction – _not the anger_ —that causes her to yank the tape a little too tightly across the gauze on his wound.

“ _Yeeoow!_ ”

“Sorry.”

~

“Did he catch the thief?”

“No, apparently he did not,” Chuck responds, glancing over his shoulder once to see that Felicity is still bent intently over Oliver’s admittedly ripped chest.

“So did he get _anything_ besides a beating?” Casey sneers over Chuck’s shoulder at the man.

At least he wasn’t the only one not entirely fond of the Arrow right now. He shakes his head and turns to Sarah. “I think he’s hiding something. But if I can get into the police database, I might be able to flash on any evidence the 'Arrow' left behind.”

“Good idea, we’ll go back to the hotel and try it,” she answers, eyes also skating toward Oliver and Felicity.

As Casey heads back up the stairs, Chuck walks back over to the other group, leaning over Felicity’s shoulder. “Hey, if everything’s good here, we’re going to head back over to the hotel and regroup.”

“Sure, we’ll talk later,” Felicity says, glancing up momentarily to give him tight smile before turning back to Oliver.

He nods, even though she’s no longer looking, and looks up at Oliver. To his surprise, the man is already staring at him with a look of… satisfaction, maybe? Chuck’s frown deepens in confusion and he gives the man a short nod before turning and striding quickly back to Sarah. They head up the stairs together, but at the top, Chuck glances back one more time to see Felicity standing up off her knees and habitually rubbing Oliver’s shoulder comfortingly.

~

“How long have you been here?”

Felicity looks back to see Chuck weaving his way through the boxed up tech toward her. She looks back at the monitor and string of words that she barely understands, and sighs in frustration.

“Oh, not long. A few hours, maybe,” she replies, sarcastically.

Chuck laughs and comes to stand beside her, hand on the back of her seat. “What are we looking at here?”

“A sedative, found in a blood sample. I’m trying to determine where it came from.”

“What’s the sedative?”

“Ketamine.”

Chuck nods and reaches for the keyboard. “It’s a schedule three compound substance. That shouldn’t be too hard to track."

He begins typing, but the exhaustion hanging on Felicity’s eyelids is making it harder for her to follow it. She leans back and lets him work, allowing herself a few moments of rest.

“And… Done!”

 _Moments,_ being the keyword here.

She sits up, staring blindly at the screen. “Really? What did you find?”

“What’s Argus?"

Felicity’s eyes dart to Chuck, who is staring back curiously. She takes a breath, schools her expression and says, “It’s a company that specializes in Emergency supply.”

“Well, they’re warehouse has the exact same amount of Ketamine as the amount of blood stolen from our guy.”

Felicity can’t help the flicker in her neutral expression as she turns to the screen at the information and begins working out the same conclusion two more times before transferring the search results to the computers at the Foundry. Her head is reeling at the implication and she grabs her phone.

“Who are you calling? Oliver?” Chuck asks suddenly, standing erect from his previous stance leaning oer her shoulder. “Is this about the case?”

Felicity looks up at him, mouth a silent oh. She doesn’t want to lie to him, but if this is what she thinks it is… She promised Oliver she wouldn’t tell Chuck and the others anything. For a moment, she considers ignoring Oliver’s demand and just telling him. After all, he’s only her boss for show, and he has no claim over any of her choices, her life. But after that moment passes, her body deflates into resignation. Because of course, she’s going to do what he asked, even if it doesn’t make sense.

“No, it’s something else he’s working on. As the Arrow.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeats in relief. Her cover stories really were _horrible_.

Chuck hops up onto the tabletop, facing her and says, “So… working with the Arrow. That must be, I mean, really exciting, right?”

“Mmm, not usually. I actually still spend most of my time behind the comfort of my computer screens. Except for that time I went in an illegal casino under cover. And that other time with the bomb collar at the art auction…”

Chuck’s eyebrow arch dramatically, crinkling his forehead cutely. “Wow, didn’t peg you as the daredevil-type, Felicity. ‘Highway to the danger zone’ and all that.”

“Oh, well. It’s not, really, all that. I mean, my boys are very protective of me and my safety level.”

“I can see that,” he responds, eyes on his fidgeting fingers.

“I mean that in a perfectly professional and platonic way!” Felicity blurts out, hoping she didn’t just ruin whatever they had going on with her stupid babbling. “Digg has Lyla and Oliver has Laurel. I am a, completely, free bird. Totally available on that front. Just… putting that out there.”

Chuck laughs heartily, smiling down at her fondly. “Good to know.”

“Hey, um…” She starts, not really thinking this through. “I was invited to Mrs. Queen’s party and I have a plus one. I was thinking, you could make a really great plus one?”

“Yes, I would be honored,” Chuck concedes happily, then adds, after a thought, “Will there be dancing? I’m not exactly a strong dancer, but I have it on good authority I can lead a _mean_ tango.”

It’s Felicity’s turn to laugh this time, eyes on his face. She bit her lip in excitement and said, “Great, I guess I’ll follow your lead.”

~

“Are you telling me that someone out there has basically the means to build an army of _super soldiers_ , likely impossible at stopping and you never bothered to tell us?” Felicity asked incredulously at the less than forthcoming Oliver.

Oliver’s gaze flicks between his two close friends, but ultimately lands on Diggle as he responds to the slightly rhetorical question, “It wasn’t important before now.”

“I’m sorry, ‘ _it wasn’t IMPORTANT BEFORE NOW’?_ ” Felicity repeats angrily, not even noticing that she’s cut off Digg in the process.

Oliver finally looks at her, taking in her stance and expression, to see the anger pulsating from her. He frowns, apparently not expecting such a reaction. “No.”

She groans loudly, throwing up her hands in frustration. “No, of course you didn’t. Because talking about the past—talking about _anything_ is just way too much freaking trouble. Doesn’t matter that the two people who are trusting you with their _lives_ , the two people in this whole city you shouldn’t be hiding anything from, are always the last to know. Doesn’t matter that we’re always getting freaking whiplash when your past comes back to bite us in the ass— _excuse my French—_ and we get screwed because we’re completely unprepared—“

“Felicity!"

“No, Oliver,” she sighs to dispel the ire from her voice. “Just no. I need some air.”

So, Starling city’s very own fearsome and ruthless vigilante watches a very blonde five foot tall IT girl walk away feeling completely helpless and, yes, a little like whiplash.

~

Oliver sighs, not for the first time tonight, as he takes in the near empty room where he’s hosting a party for his mother. He hates to see her so embarrassed and is devastated that he caused this. A familiar hand brushes his arm and he turns to see Felicity appear at his side in her (beautiful) evening dress. He sighs again (see?), this time out of wistfulness. A movement catches his eye near the pillar at the entrance.

“Time for a dance?” he asks through his sigh.

She turns to look up at him in question. She murmurs, bluntly, “Not exactly feeling like dancing with you right now, Oliver.”

“Not me, Felicity,” he murmurs, turning her so that she faces the entrance.

He feels her body relax as her own gaze falls on him. She glances up at him with a momentary smile (they’re becoming more and more momentary, he notes) before looking back over at Chuck, he watches that sweet little smile morph into a full-fledged heart-stopping grin, sunshine pouring directly into her face with it. Oliver clears his throat and says one last thing before leaving her.

“The bartender has been notified to ID him if he comes within ten feet of the bar.”

He watches her shoulders shake gently at the joke as he backs away to be replaced by the better match.

“I will you to realize I wasn’t kidding about the tango.”

~

Her laughter floats toward him from where he grinds his teeth at the bar. They have been participating in a clumsy pseudo dance of tango for the last ten minutes, which have unrelatedly been the hardest ten minutes of his life. Chuck keeps whispering things in her ear as she subsequently bursts into fits of giggles. After minute six, Oliver had to turn away and lean against the bar with his drink at his lips. Isabel and his mother had barely managed to distract him before both were gone and he was forced to resort to actually checking his email on his phone _at his own party_. He’s debating whether or not he can get away with the excuse of the bathroom and how many people would notice the lack of his return when a voice startles him out of his reverie.

“It’s a lovely party. Thank you for inviting us,” Sarah murmurs politely.

He turns to face her, Oliver mask falling easily into place, and takes in her expression out of habit. She’s clearly hiding behind an equally well adjusted façade as he is. Belatedly, he gives her a tight-lipped smile and responds with, “Of course, you and your partners are helping with the investigation…”

Sarah took a sip of her drink and pressed her bright red lips together, before conceding, “Mr. Queen, we both know that I am fully aware of your, shall we say, _additional_ identity. So, please don’t insult my intelligence with the admittedly convincing façade you have everyone in this town believing.”

Oliver’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise by her bluntness, but he quickly glances around and—once satisfied no one overheard—turns back to Sarah with resignation. He tilts his head and gives her a humorless smirk. “Alright then.”

She takes another sip of her champagne before setting the glass down on the bar, folding her arms over her chest and turning to watch along with most of the handful of guests as Chuck and Felicity fumble around the dancefloor, snorting and chuckling. As her eyes follow their movements, one perfectly manicured eyebrow arches. It’s a subtle twitch in her otherwise flawless front, but Olive has learned a lot in the last six years. Catching someone’s tells is one of them.

He mimics her, and turns to watch them. The musicians have gracefully shifted their lilting song into a dulcet version of the tango as to accommodate their only dancers. It’s almost like watching a scene in a movie. Guy gets the girl. Or guy watches as he slowly loses girl, depending on whose story it is.

“It must be stressful, keeping all those secrets to yourself. To not be able to speak to your mother, sister, best friend about any of it… Sharing such a massive secret with only two people is, I’m sure, very taxing,” she spoke calmly, gaze never faltering as it followed Felicity. The song has transitioned into a waltz and it is clear that the couple is taking liberties. “It must create a special bond between you.”

Oliver clears his throat, uncomfortable at the knowledge that he has absolute no control over the conversation or where it was headed. “I suppose so.”

Sarah drags her eyes from the couple then, her eyebrows drawing together as she aggressively searches his face. “Care to dance?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he takes the proffered hand and leads the strange woman out onto the empty dance floor. Oliver never worried much about staring. Growing up the way he did, it happened a lot and for better or for worse, there was only one reason: people always wanted something from you. So he knows he’s lying to himself even as he chooses that reason for why he wishes he wasn’t on the dancefloor tonight. For all their clumsiness, their disgrace, their lack of form, everyone here knows which couple is more beautiful. The stoic, cold, flawless dance just can’t compare to the somehow smooth, warm, heartfelt one. And he knows exactly which dance he wishes he could be having right now.

Oliver notices Sarah’s appearance for the first time as they glide seamlessly across the floor. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a complicated knot, a chignon. He remembers Laurel doing them on what she called their ‘formal dates’. Felicity has done it a couple of times herself. Sarah’s wearing a long black evening gown that flows over her curves beautifully and constantly draws the attention of everyone in the room.

“We’re government agents, did you think it would escape our attention?”

Oliver’s head shoots up in surprise.

“I mean, we’re trained to deceive. You didn’t think we would eventually notice the signs of a cover?” Sarah scoffs as if the idea personally offends her, but it is her mind is elsewhere as she is still glancing at the other couple out of the corner of her eye.

“I… hadn’t really thought about it, actually. I was a little busy doing other things.”

“Like her?”

“What?” Oliver exclaims, gaze jerking back toward Sarah’s face and away from the couple they’re both now openly gawking at.

“Please, I know a pining man when I see one,” she murmurs almost conspiringly. “And you, my friend, are pining after her.”

Oliver closes his eyes momentarily. He takes a breath for strength. “First of all, I don’t _pine_. I appreciate from afar.”

“Ah,” she murmurs sarcastically. “So that’s what’s had you grinding your teeth to the gum all evening. _Appreciation._ ”

“Second,” he plowed on, ignoring her, “Even if I did have some kind of… attraction—"

He sighs, glancing over the beautiful woman’s shoulder again to see the one that’s now leaning her head against Chuck’s chest, a little contented smile hidden there. He feels his face sag at the sight her in the other man’s arms.

“It could never go anywhere. Because of the life I lead.”

The woman pauses—she actually pauses—in her steps to stare up at him incredulously. “’ _Because of the life that you lead’_? Oh my god, did you say that to her?”

He frowns defensively, lips pressing together. “She wouldn’t be—“

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘wouldn’t be in any more danger than she is right now’ then I am really not interested in the rest of that sentence.” Sarah announces sardonically. She then adds, more seriously, “Look, I understand your thought-process, I’m an international spy, I get it. But you are not exactly the precursor on following the rules, and neither is your ‘crusade’.”

Oliver lets his head fall back with a sigh. “Exactly.” He bobs his head in Felicity’s direction. “ _She’s_ the exception.”

Sarah’s already raised eyebrows drop at that. She lets her gaze fall to his chest, thoughts obviously racing through her mind. Finally, she sighs and looks back up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Fine.” She says calmly. “If you really truly believe that putting each other through emotional agony is the right thing, then I have nothing left to say.”

Oliver frowns down at her, again not following the conversation. “Good.”

She nods in resignation and they continue their dance in silence, neither noticing the obvious beauty beneath their fingertips. Finally after the song ends and they step apart and Sarah watches Oliver’s entire body turn in the direction of the other blonde who’s walking towards the bar, she touches his arm and murmurs, “But that little tug in your gut? The one that tickles you every time you hear her laugh or see her smile at him? That’s not going to go away. And, trust me, Chuck will charm her. But if he doesn’t, someone else will. And that tug is going to keep eating at you until you’re sick, because she is beautiful and smart and young. And she loves you, but she’s too smart to wait for forever.”

And with that the spy drops her hand from his arm and slowly walks across the room to her partner, Casey. Oliver turns to watch her walk away, a frown tugging at his lips.

~

“Do you want a drink?”

Felicity glances back to Chuck where he’s busy pulling out his wallet. She feels a grin of amusement slide onto her face. _Guess he wasn’t kidding; of course he wasn’t kidding. It’s Oliver Queen._ She shakes her head to rid the train of thought and smiles up at him. “Just a glass of champagne, please.”

She turns to face the nearly empty room, glancing toward Chuck’s friend by the door. Sarah, of course, is wearing a [gorgeous black dress](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/32299322304311851/). It didn’t escape Felicity’s attention that Sarah and Oliver shared a dance. Which is fine. Because Felicity certainly doesn’t care, or feel threatened by the leggy blonde (honestly, how can one woman have so much _leg_?) at all. She gratefully took her glass from Chuck.

“Hey, uh, I’ll be right back. I’m just going to go talk to Sarah really quick. I’ll, uh, be right back, I promise.”

“Sure.” Felicity murmurs to herself as she watches him hurry clumsily across the room.

She hated being left alone at these parties, never knowing exactly what to do. Here, she is just the blonde secretary, nothing more. She hates the way that makes her feel, because she is finally at a place in her life where she can recognize that she is more than that. She is a—

“Train wreck waiting to happen.”

“Oh!” Felicity jumps, champagne slipping over her hand and onto the floor as she whirls around to see John Casey leaning against the bar. She clears her throat. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Spy. Remember?”

“Right. Okay. Yeah.”

Casey nods casually, eyes skating back to Chuck and Sarah, where they stand by the pillar having what looks like a heated conversation. “Yup. Train wreck.”

“What’s that?”

The man sighs through his nose, an ironic smirk on his face. “Your poor excuse of a relationship with the Moron.”

Felicity frowns, heat rising in her cheeks. “How so?”

“Well, it’s been my experience that relationships tend to do best when there is only _two_ people in them.” He responds sardonically, eying Felicity. “And, since clearly you’re both too proud to say it, I’ll do it for you. That man follows you around like a sad cloud.”

He nods his head in the direction of Oliver, who is across the room, murmuring to Diggle.

Felicity scoffs dubiously, “Oliver _does not_ —It’s not like that, we’re—He’s just.” She sighs angrily, because she can’t make sense of the way their relationship is, even though it all makes perfect sense in her head. She takes a breath and tries again, “Oliver is just like that. He’s protective—almost to the point of possessive—with his things— _Not_ that I belong to him, but I am a close friend of his. And he doesn’t have a lot of those right now, given the widely unknown circumstances. Which honestly is a lot healthier a concession than, I think by all rights, he probably should have, considering the fact that he was stranded on an island for five years going through God knows what. And no, that doesn’t give him the right to destroy any chance for me to ever find happiness—not that I’m implying that anything is going to go down between Chuck and me, because you know, the jury’s still out on that one. I mean, I don’t want to overstep my bounds, because I sometimes get the feeling that there’s more going on with Super Beautiful Spy Sarah, but—oh, wow, I’m rambling, but that's going to stop in three, two, one.”

Casey has one eyebrow raised, mouth slightly ajar. “Ya’ done?”

“You make me _very_ nervous.”

“Good.” He grunts unaffected. “And of course, he’s going to end any and all of your potential relationships. The man’s got an excuse for everything. He runs around shooting arrows into people dressed like Robin Hood, you think he’s not going to find a valid reason to keep you single and always at his beck and call? Have you ever heard the term girl Friday? Try doormat."

Felicity gives her own grunt, forgetting for a moment in her own annoyance, her fear. “Oliver isn’t _using_ me. I mean, he is, but not like that.”

Casey sighs again, face falling flat. “No, Blondie.” He deadpans. “Not using, _in love with_. Honestly, with the amount of spelling it out I'm having to do, my faith in your intelligence is quickly dwindling.”

Her breath stops, for just a second, because _those words_. But immediately she pulls herself together. She rolls her eyes at the spy, who must be losing his touch, honestly. “You’re wrong."

“Am I?”

He reaches out and grabs her shoulders, turning her to face Oliver. She looks up at him just in time to see him look away sheepishly. He awkwardly turns his body in completely the opposite direction to face… the wall. He stands proud for a moment before his body slumps forward and he turns back and begins walking toward them. They watch in silence as he arrives before them and looks between the two.

“Enjoying the party?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I’m thoroughly enjoying myself, _Mr. Queen_ , thank you for asking.”

He then smiles knowingly at the couple and strides away without a second glances. They turn back to each other after the man has left their bubble, both seeing the other with completely different eyes.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, maybe I should add that tommy is alive in this story! Sorry, yeah he never died in my head (you can pretty much expect that in all of my stories because my feeble heart can’t stand the fact that he’s gone) so he’s just not around all that much, bc he still hates oliver and laurel for hoeing it up behind his back…and though he didn’t die, the loss of his respect, acceptance and friendship are what made oliver stop killing (which is totally how they should’ve had the canon play out, like come on guys). but pretty much everything else is canon complaint, unless otherwise stated..
> 
> also sorry for so much use of the word "turn", idk i just coulddn't think of enough substitution for tht word, yo


	7. The Oldest Profession (Part 2 of Ch. 6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more angsty feely convos, ya feeeel???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> k, so as previously stated this is more like the second half of chapter 6, but if you would rather think of it as ch 7 by all means go with it! whatever floats ur boat :)

~

The night is young and Oliver and his male partner, Mr. Diggle, have disappeared. Chuck and Felicity have been laughing and chattering quietly by the bar the entire evening. Sarah has kept her distance, understanding that it’s not her place. She has no claim over Chuck. Still, the flare of possessiveness invades her as she watches the other blonde touch her his arm lightly. When she turns and begins walking toward the hall and to the bathroom, Sarah can’t help, but follow.

She’s standing in front of the mirror when Sarah enters, combing her fingers through her long thick hair. Felicity doesn’t look up when Sarah comes to stand beside her.

“You make quite a couple—“

Felicity jumps, giving out a small yelp. She clutches her chest awkwardly, a nervous giggle bubbling up as she looks up at Sarah, who is almost comically a towering figure. Sarah takes a measured breath before forcing a polite smile on her face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Felicity sighs, body relaxing minutely. “No, it’s fine. You guys with your super spy stealth, huh?”

Sarah frowns at the girl, watching her as she turns and finishes washing her hands. She plasters the smile back on as Felicity turns back again and replies with an unconvincing, “Right. Look, Chuck is my asset. That means it’s my job to train him, teach him, but most importantly, protect him.”

“I understand,” Felicity says calmly.

Sarah’s frustration flares, sensing the other girl is not taking the conversation as seriously as it is. She quickly snaps, “No, I don’t think you do. Chuck is—“

“Chuck is your asset. Chuck is your friend; he plays your boyfriend in a 24/7 role. And he’s sweet,” The woman states patiently, slowly, a small kind smile on her lips. “It can get crazy out there on missions with your adrenaline pumping and having to save each other in what feels like exotic settings and romantic circumstances. I understand that, after almost a year, you care about him. I mean, it’s Chuck.”

Heat races under her skin at Felicity’s perceptive words. Sarah suddenly feels vulnerable in a way that she hasn’t since before she was recruited. She feels herself instinctively pull herself inward, face growing taut. She has to physical will her jaw to unclench and remind herself why she’s here.

She squares her shoulders and continues with her original lines, “Chuck… He’s a great guy.”

“I’ve had the same opinion, too.”

“It’s not an opinion, it’s a fact,” Sarah states vehemently. She sighs at Felicity’s startled expression, and adds more softly. “Look, just—don’t hurt him.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, but… don’t worry.”

Sarah presses her lips together, feeling an odd hollowness in her chest. She gives the girl a quick nod and turns to leave the bathroom, wondering who gave whom a talking to.

~

“Speak of the devil!”

“Oliver,” Sarah murmurs, not unkindly.

“Another dance?” He asks sardonically, giving the woman a trademark Ollie eye roll (Tommy would be proud). “Or do you have more wizened romantic advice for me, spy to vigilante?”

Sarah smiles coyly, nostrils flaring as she bites her tongue and answers with, “Actually, I came to you as the host to let you know that we’re leaving.”

“For good, or just from this party?”

“Both, actually. I assume that the vigilante no longer desires the government’s presence in Starling if you’re back to keeping evidence from us.”

“Perceptive, you spies.”

Sarah takes a steadying breath. She understands that she may have overstepped her bounds before, but she just can’t help but see the similarities. And, for all his stubbornness and crime, she’s found that she’s grown fond of Oliver. He is a misguided hero, a wounded soldier. With a past like hers, how could she not sympathize? Also, she isn’t blind. Anyone could see the pain and longing in his gaze when he looks at her, the love and concern in the way she handles him—whether it be tending to his wounds or defending his honor.

“Oliver, I’m sorry if I have overstayed my welcome in your city. But…” She can’t help glancing over at Chuck, taking in his carefree grin and gentle eyes, as she continues, “you know what they say: what you hate in your neighbor, you see in yourself. Trust me, you don’t want the heartbreak you’re heading toward.”

“You—this whole night,” Oliver stutters, glancing between Sarah and Chuck across the room. “You have feelings for him.”

She knows it’s not a question and she doesn’t answer, just lets a little bit of the weight on her chest ease as she stares across the dance floor at Chuck. She feels her heart skip when he laughs heartily at something Felicity is saying, popping a peanut from the bar into his mouth. She doesn’t realize her face has softened and the corners of her lips have quirked up until she glances back at Oliver to see him staring in wonder.

“Look, I don’t know. All I do know is that were feelings present, I would never be allowed to say anything for fear of being reassigned. The only way I can stay with Chuck is by never _being_ with him. I know you know what it’s like to be afraid of examining your own feelings. I recognize it in myself.”

They’re quiet for a moment, taking in the brutal honesty of the concession. Sarah is just about to walk away when Oliver speaks softly.

“What if I can’t be both men? What if I can’t protect her, because I let myself show weakness?”

Sarah sighs looking up at the man beside her in empathy. Without thinking, she reaches out and touches his arm. “It is never weak to show your humanity, it takes real strength to admit when you’re heart has been stolen.”

~

The next morning finds Felicity scooting happily into her comfy chair, a deliciously scolding cup of coffee cradled in her hands. She takes a luxurious sip, eyes fluttering closed and smiles greedily at the small concession. She knows it could never last and that she may be very well be jinxing it all away, but for this moment, her life is okay. Better than okay, her life is not too shabby.

“Drink it while it’s hot, Felicity. He’s going to want to see you when he comes up.”

Felicity’s eyes snap open to John striding forward, an amused smirk on his face and a folded newspaper in his hand. She gives a muted groan and forces a few more gulps of her heaven-sent coffee down before Oliver comes tramping through the office to her desk.

“Could I have a word?” He asks in his polite Ollie voice, eyebrows raised and eyes on her desk.

 _Uh-oh_. That means he feels chagrined about what he’s about to address. Felicity swears, if he says something about Chuck and his lack of trust in her again she is going to blow up completely.

“Uh, no. This is about something else,” he murmurs, ears burning.

Oops, she hadn’t realized she had been talking out loud. “Okay…?”

She rises from her desk and follows him into his office. He doesn’t turn or even glance back until he is standing beside his own imposing desk. He turns then, to lean against the front of it, facing her. She stops a few feet away, arms crossed, and eying her boss warily.

“What’s going on? What’s the matter?”

Oliver sighs, moving his hands to hold onto the edge of the desk. Finally, he looks up at her. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

“Apologize for what?” she murmurs, still suspicious of him.

Oliver clears his throat uncomfortably. “It’s come to my attention that I haven’t exactly been all that fair with you. In terms of, um, emotions.”

Felicity’s eyes widen. She was definitely not expecting that. Shell-shocked, she doesn’t respond immediately.

Mistaking her silence for displeasure, Oliver sighs, dropping his head. “It’s just that I’ve been through so much these last few years and the mission has been my rock, my structure. And I have given my life to honor that mission. That includes romantic attachments. And—I don’t want you to get involved and then get hurt, because you’re my friend… And that’s why I always thought that you understood—“

“Wait,” Felicity speaks finally, her stomach dropping as his words sink in. “’Romantic attachments’?”

“What? Oh, I—no, that came out wrong. I—“

Felicity takes a quick step back, her hands held up in front of her, as Oliver pushes himself off the desk and moves toward her. “No, please. I want to hear the rest of that. What exactly did you expect me to understand about _romantic attachments_ , Oliver?”

He sighs, scrubbing his face violently with his hands. “It means that the mission was always supposed to come first, and anything else was none of my business! But now everything is weird and confusing, and I don’t know what comes first anymore!” He shouts, beginning to pace in front of her anxiously. “For the last six years, my life has been completely focused on survival and sometimes survival means sacrificing pleasantries—“

“Ah, well then.” Felicity mutters, pressing her lips together and nodding. “I see now.”

Hearing the sarcasm in her voice, Oliver looks up at her. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her chest, the way they are when she’s just been told some very bad news. His heart sinks as he realizes what conclusion she must’ve drawn from his words. “Felicity, no—that’s not what I meant—“

“No, Oliver, you know what,” Felicity snaps, voicing raising without her even realizing. “I have rambled a hell of a lot in my time and let slip some very compromising phrases along the way, and you know what I learned from that? Sometimes, you say the wrong thing on purpose.”

With that, she turns on her heel and marches to the door, Oliver following quickly behind. She yanks the door open and looks back to watch him halt no more than three feet from her. His eyes plead her to understand, but her gaze is unresponsive.

“I understand that you have been through hell, Oliver, and that maybe hell followed you back home. But you are not in war, and I am not some random girl that you get to write off as an _attachment_  or _pleasantry_ whenever you decide it’s time to go back into battle.”

~

“Nice.”

“What?” Oliver asks indignantly. He watches Diggle follow him down into the Foundry with a smug look on his face the next day. Felicity hasn’t been into work since she stormed out yesterday morning, so he decided to top by here to see if he could catch her.

“Ah, well. Howdy, soldier!”

Oliver glances up in surprise to see Tommy swirling around in circles in Felicity’s chair. His eyebrows raise fractionally at the sight of his old best friend down here and can’t help but feel a small glimmer of hope that he’s beginning to forgive him.

And then his words sink in.

“She talked to you.”

“Man, that whole casual relationship thing was a lot more charming before you left on that damn boat,” he exclaims, an unamused smirk on his face. “What were you thinking?”

Oliver let out a frustrated groan, reaching up to rub the sides of his head aggressively. “It wasn’t like that, Tommy.”

“Yeah, that was what I thought too.” He states sarcastically. “You know, ever since you came to me talking about how you _couldn’t_ feel anything for Laurel anymore, because you were too consumed by your honorable work as the new city crime lord—bow and arrow edition.”

The aggressive disdain in his voice forces an ugly thought into Oliver’s head and he feels his gut drop in apprehension. “Tommy, what did you say to her?”

Ever since the Undertaking, in which Tommy nearly lost his life, he had spent less and less time at Verdant, but oddly more and more time with Felicity. When Oliver asked her about it, she just told him that they had bonded over almost dying underneath a multitude of debris and the fact that they were constantly being screwed over by Queen consolidated’s new CEO. They had come to confiding in each other on a level that at times had Oliver on edge. God knows what hate and resent-filled things Tommy could’ve said to influence Felicity.

“I told her that she was right and you were a jerk; was I lying?” he asks sardonically.

Oliver sighs in defeat. “You don’t understand. It was more complicated than that. She misinterpreted my words!”

“So then explain it to me slowly.”

Oliver glances up at his old friend. He’s standing before him with his arms crossed and a look of complete indifference. Diggle is a few paces behind him, leaning against Felicity’s desk, watching in silence. His expression is equally unreadable. Oliver takes a breath and makes the executive decision to just be honest.

“Okay, yes, I handled the situation all wrong. Yes, I really said every pompous word I’m sure she reiterated. But they meant something different to me! I was leading up to what was really important!”

Both men continue to stare at him, unimpressed.

“She didn’t let me get out what I really wanted to say!”

“Which was?”

“ _That I love her!_ Obviously. That I couldn’t do any of this without her. And that I was so wrapped up in my crusade that I didn’t even stop to examine these feelings that I started having… And I wrote it off as being protective instead of jealous, or being proud of a friend rather than feeling—love…I just. I was so scared of what showing that would do. Because I want to be with her… more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But I can’t lose her, and I can’t allow her to get hurt because of being close to me. That whole first year I was back in Starling there was a bullseye on Laurel’s back and that was because she was the woman I loved. If anything ever happened to Felicity…

“I care about her safety too much to allow myself the pleasure of indulging in her love.”

When he glances up, his two closest friends are staring at him with matching looks of astonishment. He frowns, defensively. “What?”

“It’s less fun when he gets all sincere,” Tommy murmurs to Digg out of the corner of his mouth. Turning back to Oliver he says, with a sigh, “Ollie, it sounds like this is all about you all over again. How much _you_ love her, how _you_ want to be with her, but that _you_ are willing to sacrifice your potential relationship to protect her. I mean, if you love her so much, did you even stop to ask her what _she_ wants?”

Oliver’s eyebrows furrow as Tommy’s words hit him like an avalanche. He almost laughs at his selfishness. He had been so consumed by his own feelings that he had honestly never even stopped to wonder how she felt, or what she wanted. He just always assumed…

“Hey, I got to go—“

“Yeah, boss. Just go.” Diggle interrupts smoothly.

The two men watch as he feels a small smile erupt on his face, before turning and running back up the stairs and disappearing out the door.

Tommy turns back to Diggle suddenly, a little smirk on his face. Diggle glances over at the man that he doesn’t have much more like for than he did last year, and frowns suspiciously. He pushes off the desk and walks forward until he’s standing over the other man. “What?”

“Want to know what else I told Felicity?”

Diggle’s frown deepens. He tips his head forward.

“I told her that, for all of his universe of flaws, he’s never cared about a woman he wasn’t screwing as half much as he cares about her. And then, I told her to go home and work off some steam, because I would handle Ollie.” He finishes with a self-satisfied grin.

“And, by handle…”

“I mean,” he moves around Diggle to one of Felicity’s computers, typing a few keys and pulling up the security feed. He glances up at the imposing man again. “Handle.”

~

Oliver races up the stairs to her door, praying it’s not too late. He gives it a quick knock, running over what he has been planning to say the whole drive over in his head. He feels his heart pick up pace as he hears lazy footsteps in his direction from the other side of the door. It’s still the afternoon, so he knows she can’t still have been in bed.

When the door swings open, Oliver is surprised to see that Felicity is in nothing but a large white tee shirt. He presses his lips together uncomfortably at the realization that she is not wearing any pants.

“Oliver!” She exclaims in surprise, pressing herself in between the door and its frame. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you, uh, about earlier? There were some things I really wanted to clear up—“

His voice cuts off as Felicity, who is pulling at her tangled hair, glances back inside her apartment. At that moment, Oliver hears what must’ve been the reason for her stolen attention.

“Felicity? I told you I’m a cuddler!” Oliver’s stomach drops at the sound of Chuck’s voice and suddenly Felicity’s behavior and appearance adds up. “Who’s at the door?”

He takes a step back instinctively, heart hammering, acid burning his gut and bubbling up into his throat. Felicity winces, closing her eyes and biting her lip. She turns back to Chuck, letting the door widen slightly so that the two men can see each other. Oliver has seen the other side of the morning after far too many times to be able to deny the evidence before him. Chuck stops in his tracks, shirtless and wearing nothing but low hanging sweatpants.

“Oh,” he murmurs softly. “Hi, Oliver…”

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for this cute albeit annoying lil cliffhanger, it was asked of me -- and i couldn't resist!!
> 
> so tommy is in this ch :) and is friends with felicity, which i thought was a nice touch -- flommy gets my goat loooool 
> 
> and yes, we got a lil more jealous sarah and ollie (which i think i promised) ur welcome!!!
> 
> i wanna thank everyone reading and commenting and leaving kudos, in case I havent yet!!!! I am sooo grateful for feedback, or even just if ur reading/enjoying my story -- i very much appreciate it!


	8. The Art of Deception (Or Lack Thereof)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EVERYBODY REALIZES THEIR REPRESSED FEELINGS (EXCEPT, ODDLY ENOUGH, CHUCK)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SO SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> school started so i've been able to write for all of ten minutes a night before blacking out from exhaustion, im sorry im sorry, i hope everybody is still interested and willing to read!!!!
> 
> i hope you enjoy this chapter and leave a comment to let me know if you did or not :)
> 
> (PS IDK how i missed it but i somehow switched the titles of chap 8 and 9 up, so i have now fixed that!)

~

_“Oh,” Chuck murmurs softly. “Hi, Oliver…”_

Oliver frowns, staring down at the hardwood floor at their feet. He takes a breath, clears his throat and wills the possessive ire threatening to slip over to the back of his mind. Felicity would not take well to being viciously screamed at for technically not doing anything wrong.

But he can’t help but feel like this _is_ wrong. No matter how perfectly compatible they seem, Oliver knows in his bones, just like he knew with Laurel, that they aren’t supposed to be together. He looks up at Felicity, silently willing her to feel it too.

She clears her throat, holding the hem of her shirt further down in an unconscious move for modesty. “Um, this isn’t really a good time.”

“Right,” he mutters, stoically, feeling sick all of a sudden. “Right, yeah. Sorry to interrupt, I guess.”

He turns and walks firmly down the hallway to the elevator, adamant on acting as aloof as he should feel. The whole way to the lobby and the entire drive back to the Arrow Cave (he feels so despondent that he’s decided to let the name slide for the sake of fonder memories), he keeps replaying what just happened, ignoring his suddenly chirpy phone. Felicity added a specialized ringtone so that he knows who it is that’s calling—in case he needs to activate his voice scrambler—and after the exchange that just went down he’s really, _really_ not in the mood to chat with Tommy.

There’s no reprieve, however, because he catches sight of the other man as he stomps down into the Foundry. Tommy and Diggle are still down there where he left them not an hour earlier, but now he notices John Casey there as well. He’s standing tautly before the glass casing of the Arrow outfit, eying it with an unashamed sneer. Oliver refuses to look him in the eye as he moves around the ex-soldier to begin pulling out his Hood.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Oliver glances up at Diggle to see that the three men are staring at him as if _this_ is the moment they decide he’s insane. He scowls at each of them in turn before responding to the only one whose opinion matters. “I’m going to that Argus warehouse, I’m going to catch this guy in the act.”

“ _Oliver_ —“ Tommy begins in that exasperated tone that he’s been using as his default lately, but when Oliver shoots him a significantly pissy glare, he sighs, “Okay, a. isn’t this guy some kind of sumo wrestler with the strength of Hercules—seriously dude, you’re not invincible—and 2. don’t you think even the Tinman needs to take a moment to process what just went down over at Blondie’s?”

Oliver takes solace in the sight of the other two men giving his old friend weary glances before taking a breath and allowing a simple, “No.”

Diggle steps forward at this point and places a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t think maybe you’re jumping into this Cyrus Gold thing because you are avoiding the situation with Felicity and Chuck—“

“No, Diggle. I’m jumping into this Cyrus Gold thing, because I know what’s at stake here and it’s my job to make sure he’s stopped,” Oliver snaps back.

The older man shakes his head knowingly, but doesn’t argue further. Oliver gives him a small nod of omission before turning back to his Hood. He finishes pulling the outfit off of its podium and begins walking toward the little room in the back where he changes. But Casey stops him, stepping in his way and towering over him menacingly.

“Thought we talked about this, Queen. You gotta stop this relationship in it’s tracks—“

“No, _Major_. You talked. And I don’t have to do anything,” Oliver said through gritted teeth, ire rising. What he says next, he addresses to the men behind him as well. “If you three want to incur the wrath that is Felicity Smoak by trying to intervene in her… love life, that’s your prerogative.”

~

Casey curses under his breath, watching Oliver stride purposefully out of the room. He turns, giving Diggle one last nod, and chases quickly after the stubborn man. He catches up with him behind the bar of Verdant and grabs his upper arm securely. “Hey, Oliver. What the hell?”

“Glad you asked, Major. I am sick of this. I am sick of unrequited feelings, and stepping on invisible toes, or invisible relationships. I am _tired_ of always having horrible timing with the people I care about. I am so fed up with all of it, and you know what? It never works out, anyway—“

“Oh, stop whining, Queen.  You know I’m not interested in any of your feelings,” he insists pragmatically, unable to help the disdain that last word squeezed out with.

Oliver sighs, body drawing tight instead of relaxed with it, and stares dully at his shoes. “ _Right_. Then what do you want?”

“I want you to fix what you broke. When my partner finds out the _Imbecile_ has been exchanging fluids with your glorified techie, that’s when the shit’s really going to hit the fan.”

Oliver’s deflated body doesn’t so much as flinch at the news, something that greatly annoys Casey—he doesn’t like to be underestimated—when he glances up at him and responds, “I appreciate your dedication to team dynamic, Casey, I really do. But you and your friends are just going to have to figure it out on your own.”

Casey feels himself laugh, a humorless chuckle that bubbles up undisturbed. He explains slowly, as if speaking to a small child, “See, Queen, I don’t think you’re understanding what I’m saying to you. My partner, CIA agent and licensed assassin Sarah Walker, has reckless, unaccepted feelings for the man you’re little girlfriend just screwed. I don’t know what that translates to you in your world of illegal crime-fighting, but we spies usually start to get a little antsy about what that might mean for the subject of our lady affections. Am I making myself clear?”

Queen’s face opens widely—eyes widening, brows rising, jaw edging toward the ground—as Casey’s words sink in, and he feels a small morsel of satisfaction in reflecting the sheer magnitude of his and his partner’s abilities. But the stupid, stubborn man’s jaw tightens almost immediately, his body drawing inward once again.

“Chuck wouldn’t let Sarah hurt her,” he insists, voice cracking over the last word.

Casey is unfazed by the deflection, having expected the pigheaded ass to find more _damn_ excuses (Honestly though, is he pulling this shit _directly_ from his ass?). “Tell me something, Queen, do I look like a killer? Do I seem very threatening? Well, Sarah? Is about ten of me in one little body—but in heels. And a ponytail.”

He can see Queen’s resolve cracking and he holds back a grin; that would not be beneficial, though very clearly in order. Biting the inside of his cheek, he presses the last button he knows he needs. He steps close, annoyingly close, and places a hand on Queen’s shoulder. Looking him in the eye, he mutters gently, “You say that you’re tired of this. Well, I’m going to assume that means you have given up. But, the problem there is, that my partners don’t give up. They are persistent little bastards and they are going through hell right now, wishing they could be together.

“You may be okay with watching the Blonde be with someone else, but Sarah isn’t—whether she knows it or not. And somewhere down the road, Chuck is going to remember that Felicity isn’t the woman he trusts, or loves, or really wants to be with. Because you may be, but Chuck and Sarah are not done yet. And when he breaks Felicity’s heart by reminding her that she isn’t the one he loves, that pain is going to be on you, Queen.”

He takes two steps back, head bobbing with the movement, because he’s satisfied. He’s won and they both know it, as Oliver stares sadly up at him, his shoulders drained of their usually power, hands dangling weakly. If his expression was a color, he’d be an indigo blue—or maybe a deep gray-violet—in his grief. Casey takes a steadying breath, reigning in any uncalled for guilt. It had to be done, he reminds himself.

“Can I give you some advice, kid?”

“Haven’t you hit your quota yet?” Oliver asks through a sigh, but looks up at him expectantly anyway.

“Don’t turn your job into your passion, because your passion will become a job.”

 With that, he turns and strides back down the stairs to lean casually against the cabinet, both Diggle and the man called Merlyn staring curiously back at him.

“So, you fix it?”

“Yes, I fixed it, because I’m not an _idiot_ like the rest of you,” he shot back, getting two large amused grins.

Yeah, he fixed it.

~

“So, Oliver isn’t just your partner, is he?”

“What?” Felicity’s head jerks back to look at Chuck. He’s standing awkwardly, one arm wrapped protectively against his bare chest.

They had been having a wonderful afternoon, relaxing and talking and _laughing_ about the dumbest things—sharing one of the best days she’d had in a very long time—when Oliver barged back in to ruin all of it. Chuck had stood by patiently as Felicity had grabbed the nearest phone and dialed the first number she found, spewing the entire thing to whoever answered on the other end. Damn him, she thought bitterly, for showing up—like always—at the worst possible time.

“Well, I mean, it just usually takes a few more days for my girlfriends to regret our relationship, and—“

“No, no!” She insists, rushing to him. “I don’t regret anything! I mean, I kind of regret opening the door a few minutes ago, but nothing with you—no, I don’t regret any of that!”

He laughs robotically and says, “Yeah that call you just made kind of said differently. Which is totally fine—I mean, if you liked Oliver, that would make a lot of sense. He’s a hero, he’s-I guess, _conventionally—_ attractive. I would get it. If you did.”

Felicity feels herself frown, heart prickling as it is yanked in two different directions. She knows—okay, _she knows_ —intellectually that there is a slight possibility that she may have some feelings for Oliver. Maybe. But she also knows that she loves spending time with Chuck, laughing about dumb viruses and goofing off on minor missions. She loves his happiness, and the openness that flows so naturally—something Oliver has never harbored—at least since she’s known him. She likes hearing stories about his crazy coworkers and his sister’s ridiculously comical boyfriend—she had never even been formally introduced to Thea and Roy, though she probably knew them better than even Oliver, because—well—internet.

And somehow still, she finds herself feeling a sickening churn in her stomach, as if she had just done some injustice, some betrayal—if she’s honest, she feels like she’s just been caught cheating. Which is just _ridiculous_ , honestly, because the entire reason she invited Chuck over for drinks in the first place was because she needed someone to vent to about how much of an ass Oliver was being. Seriously, _pleasantries_? God.

Annnnd, now she is back to mad at the world. And Oliver. Mostly Oliver.

 

“Chuck, it’s really not that. It’s just…” she waits for the words to come, and when they don’t, she waits for the accidental innuendo to come, and when that too fails her, she realizes that maybe it is just that. And the epiphany makes her heart sink like a rock.

Chuck clears his throat, murmurs gently, “Yeah, it’s okay, Fel. I get it.”

And maybe her guilt is making her see things that aren’t there, but she almost feels like he actually means that.

~

The two arrive back at Verdant with only minor scathing from the very awkward and silent ride over. Tommy Merlyn rushes to Felicity’s side immediately, pulling her in and whispering to her about something Chuck is absolutely positive he doesn’t want to hear. It’s obvious everyone present knows, and he lets that add to his discontent as he sits on the edge of a table.

“You know that time I said that you might not actually be a complete and utter moron? No? That’s probably because you’re a complete and utter moron, Moron.”

“Nice to see you too, Casey,” Chuck murmurs idly, wondering if there is any way he can escape without anyone else—rightfully—mentioning to him his total idiocy. “Where’s Sarah?”

“Chuck?”

Chuck’s head shoots up to see Sarah striding toward him, concern written on her face. He feels warmth spread through him and, okay maybe everything is not actually falling apart around him. He smiles appreciatively at her worry, “Hey.”

“Hey,” she returns, glancing a frown toward Felicity, and inquires, “Why weren’t you at the hotel room? I was worried.”

“Sorry, I was—um…”

“He was otherwise occupied,” Casey cuts in, with a sardonic wink at Chuck. Chuck makes a face, but doesn’t object.

Sarah is still frowning at Chuck, but before she can say anything—and thank God really, because Chuck was not actually looking forward to the conversation in which he admits to having had spent the night with Felicity. He doesn’t really see how this should bother Sarah, but he still has the sneaking suspicion that he would undoubtedly be punished for it—Diggle turns away from the large monitor that’s Chuck hadn’t noticed had begun beeping urgently, and says to the room, “Oliver’s heartrate just dropped.”

Silence falls all around the room and Chuck is unsurprised when Felicity instinctively steps forward, body taught with tension, and demands, “What do you mean? Where is he?”

“He decided to go after the thief due to the sexual frustration you caused him by bumping uglies with Chuck.”

“ _What?_ ” Felicity and Sarah said in unison.

Both turned expectantly to the man before them and, unfortunately for Chuck, he was before Sarah. Her mouth was slightly ajar and there was a faint crease in between her eyebrows, the one she always gets when there has been a strange turn of events that she’s not comfortable with. Chuck’s stomach dips at the impending conversation, wishing for once that he hasn’t announced his feelings for his partner _quite_ so much. There is no way to feign innocence when you’re usually the one making that face.

But he gladly can’t focus on that at the moment, because now Felicity’s nearly got Merlyn in a chokehold, gaze cutting.

“Speak, boy, or risk losing your manhood.”

“Fine, fine! I had this whole plan thought out—it was going to be perfect; imagine it, Oliver and Felicity falling in love; all thanks to thoughtful, selfless best friend Tommy Merlyn backing them into a corner!”

“Tommy!”

“Well, I didn’t think you were going to rebound that quickly, God! This is really not all my fault!” the man has his back up against a pillar, hands help defensively in front of his chest.

Felicity sighs, and turns to Digg. She takes what looks like a calming breath, before asking in a wispy voice, “Do you have the van ready?”

The large military man nods curtly, eyes on the exit, clearly anxious to get going. They turn in perfect unison and head up the stairs, Digg grabbing Felicity’s hot pink coat from where she had left it hang on a chair; Felicity clutching and yanking down Diggle’s glock from where it sat on the top of a cabinet. As the two marched purposefully out of the hidden door to Verdant, Chuck has time to think that they are truly a team before Sarah’s expectant glower moves in on him.

~

“Oliver? Oliver!” Felicity’s voice echoes shrilly through the empty warehouse. Her heels click loudly as she and Digg come upon him among the piles of medicines and supplies strewn around the floor. It is obvious there had been a fight. Her sharp eyes pinpoint the two needles sticking out of his leg immediately, but she reaching for his face before logic can tell her otherwise.

“Oliver?” Her voice comes out too soft, too emotional. “Wake up! Oliver!” _That’s better_ , she thinks deliriously.

Someone is pulling her up, and she lets him, but not before yanking the needles from Oliver’s leg. Diggle moves her of the debris and leans in to examine him. She doesn’t stop to watch him; instead, she turns, eyes swimming, and searches for a computer—anything to figure out what he’s been injected with. But her efforts are to no avail.

“We have to do something, we have to get him out of here!” She’s screaming at no one in particular. But all she can think about is the last he saw of her before all this, the last thing she said to him at the end of that dumb fight. God, she would give anything to take it all back right now.

“Felicity,” Diggle says searchingly, and when she doesn’t respond, his voice hardens, “ _Felicity_. We need to get him to the hospital. We have no idea how to treat him.”

“What?” She nearly howled. “No! We can’t bring him in there in the Hood! How would we explain that, John? How would we even begin—“

“We wouldn’t, okay?!” He answered, finally. “Felicity, this is it. There’s nothing to discuss. We have to get him help. _We_ can’t get help!”

He’s holding her shoulders, shaking her slightly now, and she feels the big, hot tears streaming down like a rainstorm on her face. And she knows there’s logic there, of course there is. It’s Diggle. But she can’t, she knows she can’t do it, just like she couldn’t tell Chuck the truth when Oliver asked her not to. He wouldn’t want them to let his secret out.

“I know!” She sobs, “I know, _we_ can’t.”

She feels Digg realize what she’s going to say next, but he asks anyway, “But?”

“But, we do know a few government spies that could probably help.”

~

“You slept with her?” Sarah asks incredulously, unable to help herself. “You _slept_ with the computer tech that you met all of a week ago? Chuck, I don’t understand.”

She watches his face closely, actively trying to hold back the more devastating of her emotions, as he flinches then twists his expression into one of comical discomfort. She has to fight the urge to pinch him in impatience. “It’s… complicated, Sarah. It just kind of happened.”

“How did it just happen exactly?” She whittles, envy and betrayal coiling hideously in her gut.

“I think probably the way it usually does—you know, with the birds and the bees—“

His sarcastic tone cuts off abruptly twisting into a high pitched squeal as Casey brushes up to his side and pinches the skin of his arm, rotating it in between his fingers. Sarah is, for once, glad of the gesture, as it gives her time to wipe the heartbreak off of her face at Chuck’s words. She quickly adjusts her expression back to one of neutrality as Casey reprimands, “I _think_ what Walker was asking was, how exactly did you get into a situation that might result in ending the night in a stranger’s bed, _MORON_.”

“Hey, Felicity is not a stranger; she’s a friend—a confidante, an ally… of sorts—“

“Excuse me? Weird, out-of-place faction of government spies? Hate to interrupt, but I could actually use a little help over here—if the nerdy one that just screwed my best friend—yes, you—you know how to work these computers for actual real life mission stuff, right?”

Chuck hesitates only a moment, before nodding quickly. “Yes…?”

“Good. Then I need you over here.”

Chuck allows himself to be pulled away over to the expanse of blinking computer monitors. The way his body goes lax and he bounces easily forward suggests he’s gratefully—if not _relieved_ —for the interruption. Sarah’s mouth turns sour and something flip-flops in her stomach as she turns to face in the direction of the girl’s— _Felicity’s_ —bank of computers. She doesn’t even notice Casey is still standing beside her, almost a supportive aura drawing toward her, until he murmurs, “Kid jumps from girl to girl faster than fleas jump to dogs.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turns and walks over to an uninhabited corner of the room to pack away his guns. Sarah stands idly for only a moment to allow all of the bubbled-up emotions soak back into the recesses of her psyche before turning and strutting confidently back to the hidden alley exit and out into the frosty night.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very much enjoyed writing this chap idk it was just all my fave elements and team dynamics so.... yeah, i hope you liked it and will let me know what you loved/hated/disliked/adored/despised with a passionate fire that burns to the depths of your very soul ;) 
> 
> thank you so much for reading!!!!


	9. Mending Burned Bridges and Fixing Torn Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SUPERFEELS

~

Air flows through his lungs in a fresh gust of chemical-laced oxygen. He gasps, thoughts scrambling with the rush of panic and disorientation. Where is he? What happened? Where is she—

“Oliver?”

Relief eases his muscles and he lets his eyes flicker open. The dull green light softens the silhouette of her face as she leans down toward him. He lets out a sad slow breath, taking in her thick silken hair pulled back in that tight ponytail, her face tightened in worry, red lips parted absently. He feels her soft, sweet breath against his dried lips, and it all comes rushing back. Like an avalanche, the images plummet, swirl and envelope his mind, leaving him swathed in pain and sorrow.

“Oliver,” she repeats, voice rising, hardening. “Say something. Please.”

“Still not dead, I assume.”

His eyes have slid shut of their own accord, exhaustion weighing on them like weights, so he hears rather than sees her hearty giggle. It sends chills across his feverish skin.

“He’s up?” Hopeful.

“Not exactly.” Wry.

“Well, damn, Queen; we can’t just wait around forever. I gotta job I got to get back to—you know, we normal people have those.” Sardonic.

“Seriously, Ollie, get your fat ass up, so Felicity can pay attention to anything besides you—Ahh! _What_? I’m not _wrong_!” Playfully caring.

“Felicity, why don’t you take Merlyn and the others upstairs? Maybe then Oliver can actually get some rest.” Lovingly stern.

Oliver’s mind drifted in between consciousness and slumber, catching bits and pieces. But he was pretty sure that everyone was standing all around him—which he didn’t mind admitting was a little uncomfortable to think about. There was only one voice he didn’t catch, and only later did he guess the reason for her absence. How must Sarah have felt when she heard? Probably exactly the way Oliver did right before he got his ass handed to him _again_.

He groaned, physical and emotional pain spiking through his chest. He heard the frantic tap, tap, tapping of familiar heels coming at him as he attempted to pull himself up.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Felicity spoke, her voice soft, hands on his shoulders gentle, yet firm. “Just relax there, hotshot.”

“ _Hotshot_?” he repeated questioningly, his voice a grainy croak from disuse. He couldn’t help the bubble of hysterical amusement at the woman’s utterly unique vernacular.

“How ya’ doing, big guy? That was quite the dramatic Damsel-in-Distress act you had going on there,” Chuck exclaimed, his sarcastic tone hiding just a twinge of resentment that made Oliver wonder what reaction Felicity must’ve had while he was under to raise such emotion. “I, um, recognized that weird Russian star tattoo thing on your chest when they stripped you. Nice.”

Well. Not entirely unique.

Chuck’s words sent a sliver of panic and dread slicing through Oliver’s body—which was awkwardly announced to the room as the machine he was hooked up to recorded his pulse’s excitement a second later. His gaze jerked over to where Felicity and Digg stood standing closer to his head. Their expressions mirrored each other as they glanced up at the machine anxiously. Felicity’s hand jerked forward instinctively toward him, as if there was something she could do, but Chuck’s subsequent response had his heartrate steadying instantly.

“Oh no, no! I wouldn’t tell them, through their persistence,” He stifled a laugh and added under his breath, “And _nagging_.”

Oliver relaxed, but his breath was still coming out short and wispy, and he could still feel the effects of whatever had stabbed its way into his blood stream. He groaned as he pulled himself up into a reasonable sitting position for someone who just nearly kicked the bucket. He ignored Felicity’s breathless, almost inaudible, “Careful.” He glanced around the dim Foundry, eyes slowly coming into focus as he felt his stomach settle and the spinning in his head ease.

“Where are your friends?”

“Went to bring us back breakfast and coffee—you’ve been out awhile,” Chuck answered immediately, his eyes on his wringing hands, worry and pain etching his face.

The look he saw there, the sadness and longing, it nudged at the knowledge he’d been cringing away from since he had first found consciousness. Felicity and Chuck.

He was caught off-guard by the sheer velocity of the wave of anger, humiliation, betrayal, and—he hated to think it—envy that washed over him. He staggered back against the table he’d been lain on, as he had been standing up. He had to give himself a minute to recover from the overwhelming feeling. He caught Felicity flinching forward, before the movement was quickly forfeited, and was grateful. He _really_ didn’t want to have to hold up a pretense right about now.

“You sure you’re ready to be walking around like that, Oliver? You look like hell,” Diggle exclaimed, voicing whatever no one else wanted to.

He frowned to himself, letting out a wispy breath of exertion. He did feel a little unsteady on his feet, but he was definitely _not_ willing to admit that. “It’s fine; I’ve been through worse.”

“Why do I get the feeling he’s not exaggerating?” Chuck murmured to himself.

Oliver made his way to the chair closest to the stairs. He heaved himself into it with a slow sigh. He really couldn’t deny the weariness weighing down on his entire body. He looked up to see three pairs of eyes staring at him expectantly. Suddenly the tension he felt tightening his muscles every time he glanced at Felicity seemed palpable, a physical thing drawing comfort out of everyone in the room. He realized that maybe that hadn’t been all on him, like he had assumed.

“How are you feeling?” Felicity asked quietly, voice hesitant in a way that it hadn’t been with him since they had had their first fight. The memory squeezed at his heart, and softening his expression without his permission.

But, before said softening could make him respond any kinder than he would’ve a moment ago, his eyes caught on Chuck’s fingers as they deftly pulled his keys—connected to a characteristic brain keychain—from his pants pocket, and his feelings of betrayal and ire flared. The hard edge in his voice was impossible to ignore when Oliver responded, “I feel like I just got sucker-punched.”

The men on either side of the blonde seemed to take in his tone, and immediately stiffened; however, Felicity didn’t move, her gaze still locked with his. If anything, she seemed to grow more still at the evidence of his emotions. He glared back relentlessly, unwilling to let go of the small bit of control he seemed to still have on her. He felt a sick surge of adrenaline at the knowledge that he could still affect her, even after having chosen another man’s love over him.

“Yeeee-ah, I’m thinking, maybe we should go re-park my car—on the other side of town, huh? What do you say, Mr. Diggle?”

Digg followed the babbling man up the stairs—without ever actually acknowledging his presence, Oliver noticed with pleasure—his eyes remaining very meaningfully on Oliver. He knew that, if it came down to it, John would always protect Felicity from Oliver. Not just for her, but also for him. Because if Oliver ever did anything to her, in the heat of the moment, that he couldn’t take back, he would never forgive himself.

But right now, Oliver knew he had never felt more in control of his temper. Because the other things he was feeling were all-consuming, far too encompassing to allow him to focus on anger for any concentrated amount of time. So he didn’t meet his friend’s eyes. He didn’t need the reminder today.

Felicity cleared her throat. It was almost comical how stiffly she stood; he nearly laughed, but he somehow couldn’t find the energy.

“So, you’re alive,” she spoke finally, evidently unable to stand the silence. “And I’m alive, and I slept with Chuck, and you saw—“

“Thank you,” he murmured, cutting her off.

She stared at him, stunned into silence. Almost as stunned as he was. He hadn’t expected to say that, but as she stated the things that randomly jumped out at her in this moment as most important, he’d realized that he really couldn’t argue with any of them. For all the huge catastrophes in his life, being alive and having the knowledge that the person he loved most in the world was alive—no matter who she had chosen—was kind of a win.

“What?” she said flatly, clearly shell-shocked.

“Thank you,” he sighed, feeling suddenly weary. “You’re right; I am alive, and I owe you for that.”

He watched her watch him suspiciously. Again, quite comical. Still, not enough to jump start the dreariness he felt draining the previous rush of adrenaline from his body. Finally, she let her folded arms drop to her sides in a gesture of trust, and relaxed. “Well, what do you expect? I _am_ remarkable, aren’t I?”

Her teasing sliced him deeper than he’d thought still capable. Hadn’t something cut all the way through by now? Didn’t he have actual holes yet? To him, it felt as if he were riddled with them, as if they should be blatantly obvious to everyone around them. How could she not see that he was bleeding out, right there in front of her?

But, she did seem to see suddenly, because her easygoing expression fell away, and he could now see the pain and guilt and longing there. “That you are, love. That you are.”

“Oliver,” she whispered, drawing out his name in yearning. “I’m—I’m _so_ sorry about everything.”

“Please, Felicity, please don’t apologize,” he responded, heart aching for the pain in her voice. Without thinking, he stood and held out his arms, and she went to him instantly. She curled herself into his chest, laying the side of her head against his shoulder and bending her arms against her chest as if she had holes, too, and maybe she did. Oliver wrapped his arms around her shoulders, around her warmth, and felt for a moment that he had bottled the sun.

“Felicity,” he finally continued, “You don’t ever need to apologize to me for choosing who you want to be with. I understand—I will always understand—I may not like it, but I will always accept it. I just want you to be happy, honey. I just want you to be with whoever is going to make you happy.”

“Oh, Oliver! You—of course, it’s you!” she exclaimed suddenly, pulling her head off his chest. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

A spasm of something he didn’t want to name made Oliver jolt. He gazed down at her eyes, like a sinner seeing God. He couldn’t possibly hope—couldn’t dream—that she actually—

“Oliver, I was mad at you—really, _really_ mad—but mostly really hurt. And I called Chuck, and he comforted me, and then other things happened. But it was never that! I couldn’t ever make a decision like that with someone else, because—because, I love you.”

~

Once the words were out, she knew she couldn’t take them back. And the thought that Oliver might reject her now was all-consuming, a true agony. Because, not only would it be humiliating and painful, but she could never come back from that within the team dynamic. But she couldn’t stand here seeing the pain and betrayal on his face a second longer. It was eating away at her. She had to do something to get that look off his face, because it was a hideous sin to see such a _good person_ in such _real sadness_. She never wanted to be the reason for that expression being on his face ever again.

She cleared her throat as the silence continued without any evidence of an interruption. Anxiety and just a sliver something resembling hopeful anticipation raced through her body, making her lightheaded and weak-boned. Would he forgive her? Would he push her away? Did he even care about her as much her proclamation?

The warmth and utter acceptance in his previous embrace had felt so much like what she had craved for so long. The pull in her gut, the yearning in her heart, the gnawing ache in every cell in her body every time he walked away. Now that the truth was out, Felicity honestly couldn’t even imagine trying to go back to the way it had been. It was as if she had been holding her breath for a year and a half now, in an attempt to entrap her darkest secret, and in the end, only resulted in running herself ragged. She still hadn’t conjured up the strength to suck in another breath. It seemed an impossible feat.

Of course, if he rejected her, she wouldn’t have any choice. How would she go on? Seeing him more than she saw her apartment on any given day? Spending hours measuring the sound of his voice over the comm, focusing on the men with such absolution? It would never be the same— _she_ would never be the same—

She had to cut off that thought. It was too painful, too real. If _that_ happened, she would just have to cross that bridge without any premeditated over-analyzation.

“Oliver—“

Before she could speak, he was on her. She gasped in surprise, heart lurching forward. Shock and apprehension flooded her system, forcing her body into stillness as her mind attempted to comprehend the idea that _Oliver freaking Queen_ was kissing her face. He seemed to feel her hesitance and, to her sudden dismay, began to pull away. Her heart plummeted and, without thinking, she reached up to hold him against her. Her body seemed to curl into his and she pressed her still bewildered lips against his.

He responded immediately, wrapping his arms around her in a protective hold that left her needing. His lips were soft, sweet; hers were searching, pleading.

Their minds seemed to quiet as the rush of apprehension and anticipation pounded in their ears. They moved as if in synchronization, their bodies already in tune to each other on a level that minds never seemed to reach. For all the work-outs and exercise, Oliver felt helplessly at the mercy of Felicity’s body. His hands caressed her with gentleness and reverence, the tip of his nose trailing along her jawline from chin to ear; and for her part, Felicity had begun to pull away his clothes with a finesse she wouldn’t seem capable of. She dragged the front of his shirt over his head, whilst clawing her nails up his tight stomach and wide chest. The chill of the cold air sent gorgeous goosebumps rippling over his exposed skin, and she sighed with something near true awe.

Without either speaking, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck just as he bent to place a strong arm under her. He carried her to the nearest desk, kissing up and down her neck the whole way, and deposited her on its surface. They stayed like that, with Oliver in between Felicity’s legs, all of her limbs wrapped possessively around him, for what could’ve been hours. She only noticed the time passing when the kiss slowly became softer, more loving than searching. His hands, where they had been tightly curled into her hair, slid sensually down her back to rest on the top of her ass. She reluctantly unclenched her nails from the over-heated skin of his shoulders, and grazed them back to his naked chest.

Oliver reached up and held Felicity’s chin in between his thumb and forefinger, pulling her chapped and swollen lips an inch away from his. He let out a low, strained chuckle at her weak mewl of protest, and planted one chaste kiss on her, then one another, then one more—as if he was finding it just as hard to regain self-control as she was ( _which, knowing him_ , she thought, _it’s probably harder_ ). Thinking about how, just a few days ago, she had laughed about how he was essentially the poster child for allowing his feelings to cloud his judgment, Felicity watched Oliver pull himself a few more inches away from her, eyes narrowed and lips pursed.

She sighed, sensing his subsequent words, and said, breathily, “That was nice while it lasted.”

She watched him chortle with a deep mixture of pride and satisfaction, as his entire body shook with the fervor of his merriment. She really wanted to believe she had something to do with that. When the laughter subsides, he gazed down at her—all crinkly eyed—and huffed, “’ _While it lasted’?_ You don’t think there’s more where that came from?”

“Well, it’s just with all the crime-fighting and inner turmoil and whatnot… I mean, you never get a chance to spend time with your mother and sister anymore, and Tommy won’t stop going on about how he might as well be dead for all the time you’ve spent with him, and—and—“

“Whoa, whoa,” Oliver cut her off, watching the movement of her chest as it heaved with the amount of suction her next breath took. When his gaze met hers, it was filled with something she had seen on him far too often. “Tommy wants to spend time with me?”

Her heart clenched at the innocent hopefulness and longing embedded there. With little effort, she let her face stretch out into a wide grin. “As soon as you devote your wooing efforts to someone other than Laurel, yeah.”

He let out a sigh that he seemed to have been holding in much too long.

“I mean, come on, it’s _Tommy_. He’s your best friend, your confidante, your other half, and all that. He’s been crawling out of his skin to talk to you about all this stuff—not that he would ever admit it, mind you,” she added with a wink. “Though I’m not sure he’ll ever completely trust you round his lady again.”

“Tommy,” Oliver growled, dipping his head toward her ear and kissing and nipping down her neck with a greedy fervor, “ _Really_ doesn’t need to worry about that…”

Felicity gasped, once again consumed in passion.

After a moment, though, he pulled away again, and waited for her to meet his eyes. She felt her mouth dry at the sheer devotion staring back at her. “You don’t need to worry about that, either.”

She _might_ not have noticed the undertone of double meaning, but the little pout at the end surely would’ve done. She felt herself blush, wondering if she was really that transparent. Honestly, though, who wouldn’t feel thoroughly intimidated next to someone like Laurel? A gorgeous, successful woman who won over an infamous playboy, then his playboy best friend, then the playboy again? Felicity was fairly sure that, before the vigilante realized his need for more sophisticated tech help, she had always been painful invisible to handsome billionaires. And if it wasn’t for this one little detail in her life, she would never have met two and fallen in love with one—

 _Wait._ Whoa, back up there, honey.

Felicity nestled herself into the space between Oliver’s clavicle and jaw. She sighed against skin, gratified by the conspicuous shiver that ran through him. “I know.”

~

“What are you guys doing here?”

Sarah watched Chuck closely as he glanced up at her and then quickly looked away again. She thought she caught his cheeks darkening, but she couldn’t be sure.

“We just thought we would give Felicity and Oliver a minute alone, to sort through some things,” Faithful Diggle murmured uninterestedly, as if this private conversation were no more significant than the one they were having now.  Sarah was sure he would’ve fooled anyone less trained in the art of deception.

She felt a small pang of sympathy for Oliver. She knew how he must be feeling right now. Probably about half as bad as her. Still, she couldn’t feel too bad for him if he and Felicity were able to talk without avoiding eye contact. It was more than she could say about Chuck and her. She closed her mind to that.

“Well, let’s get them some breakfast—if Oliver is finally awake,” she suggests clinically, turning away from Chuck and the others and back to the counter.

“We’re inconveniencing ourselves so the dream team can get freaky all over the Lair now? When do we leave this crap-hole?” Casey insisted grumpily; then, after a thought, added to Diggle, “No offense.”

Sarah felt her lips turn up at the sides. Had Casey and Diggle bonded over the time when she and Oliver had been indisposed? She knew it would probably seem immature not to return to the “Arrow Cave” after making sure Oliver was going to be okay, but she just couldn’t bear to sit by and pretend to be alright with what was going on. But she had heard enough griping from Casey to have a pretty clear idea of the state Felicity had been in since Sarah had gotten him stabilized.

That had to be hard for Chuck.

“Sarah? Can I talk to you?”

Poor Chuck.

“We can talk later, Chuck,” she dismissed quickly, unwilling to admit the small sense of satisfaction at the hurt look on Chuck’s face when she turned to Diggle. “How is his condition? The blood thickener in his system was a pretty strong dose.”

“Gaining strength,” Diggle said thoughtfully, eyes turning from Chuck to Sarah as he replied. So that had been a little more conspicuous than she had thought. Oops. “Probably doing a lot better right about now. Nothing brings back a man’s spirit like the knowledge that his unrequited love isn’t so unrequited.”

That brought her up short. She paused in her step, trying to catch up. She could tell Diggle was goading her, pulling the strings to catalyze another reaction altogether. But she didn’t care that Oliver and Felicity… She just wanted to know what that meant for Chuck. That had to hurt, though if he was paying any attention at all, he’d have seen that she was head-over-heels for that man. Still, Sarah felt a pang of sympathy for him; she knew how it felt to be completely blind-sided by a third party interruption.

She glanced at him now, but he was still frowning at his shoes. Then she had a thought. Maybe the shame and guilt she had been seeing this whole time, the only thing that gave her any sense of hope, was just a delayed reaction to Chuck’s own awareness of Felicity’s feelings for Oliver. She felt her gut sink, as if she could feel any more hurt.

She turned back to the counter and ordered four egg and sausage biscuits and two breakfast burritos. “Felicity finally told him?”

Diggle made a noise that was probably a yes, and muttered conspicuously, “I think we could all take a lesson from those two.”

“Hmm, the man’s got a point,” Casey added casually, then turned to the cashier and asked, “—you got hot sauce?”

The two men nodded at each other in understanding, expressions far too casual to actually be casual. Ah, they hadn’t just bonded. They were in cahoots. Sarah nodded apathetically, staring straight ahead, and then turning with the bag of food in her hand and striding purposefully out the door. The men followed with an air of triumph.

She ignored them the entire trip back to the Foundry.

“Oh!—There you guys are, ahem, we—uh, were worried,” Felicity sputtered out awkwardly, pulling quickly out of Oliver’s grasp. They looked to have been in the transition between loving embrace and passionate hook-up. She twisted around and away, but Oliver seemed to have other ideas. He effortlessly kept his hold on her, allowing her to fidget and turn, but blatantly refusing to let go of her. After a moment, she sighed in resignation and relaxed.

“We brought back breakfast and coffee for everyone,” Casey announced, very clearly content with the air of tension in the room that he is somehow always immune to.

Sarah glanced over at Chuck to see how he was taking this, but he was already looking at her. Their eyes met for a second, and it was as if they had exchanged thoughts. Suddenly, everything was very clear. That was all they’d needed. Just a little connection, and the understanding was instantaneous.

“Maybe we should go talk, eh, Chuck?” she heard herself say without even knowing that she’s saying it.

His whole body seemed to let out a gasp of something akin to relief. His head bobbed excitedly, as if afraid she might recall the offer. He stepped quickly up to her side—demeanor already easing back into the comfortable stance that reads the protection he feels in her presence, the protection she feels vibrating through her whenever she spends time with Chuck—but before they can say or do anything more, Diggle speaks. “Well, now that all… _that_ is settled, let’s eat. Damn near starved us all with your pathetic little misgivings…”

~

Chuck follows eagerly behind Sarah as she leads the way up the stairs and into the nightclub above. He watches her sit gracefully down on a barstool and he comes to perch on the stool next to it. She is staring at her hands, and he can see in the tension in her shoulders that she won’t speak first. He takes a gulp.

“I’m sorry—about Felicity,” he chokes out, feeling exposed and unworthy. “It just happened, and I didn’t really have time to think how it might make you feel—“

“You don’t have to apologize for having a relationship, Chuck. Our relationship is just a cover.”

“See, I know those words are supposed to sound reassuring, but I’m mostly just feeling like even more of an ass,” he responds jokingly, but with a hint of hysteria.

Sarah sighs, turning her head to look at him. “It’s alright, Chuck. Honestly. I just wonder how _you’re_ doing with Felicity and… Oliver.”

Chuck frowns, frustrated by the change in subject. Of course it bothers him a little that someone he slept with less than three days ago can turn around and seem to forget about him so totally, but mostly just in a macho-guy kind of way. Mostly right now, he just feels really worried about his relationship with Sarah, and if he ruined everything. Again. But he knows he needs to address this before turning back to what’s important. He _wants_ Sarah to know his answer. “I’m actually not all that upset. I mean, Felicity’s great, but it just makes sense—her and Oliver. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a little hurtful that I seem to have no effect on women whatsoever—must’ve really lost my mojo after Jill—but Felicity is probably best left as just a friend anyway. ‘Cause, you know, my feelings lie elsewhere.”

Sarah smiles, despite herself, and Chuck feels as if he could fly. He grins back immediately, that crinkly-eyed, crooked lipped smile that always makes Sarah’s heart lurch. The two collectively hold back the mutual urges to lurch forward in their seats. Both wishing, both feeling very unrequited. It’s not enough, it’s never quite enough. But it will do for now. And that’s all they need.

“So, are we helping take down this bad boy or what?”

~


	10. In A Perfect World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All is (basically) resolved....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much apologies for how long it took to get this last chapter out!!
> 
> i hope everyone likes it :)

 “So it’s over, huh?”

“Yep, Oliver and Chuck and everybody got them,” Felicity exclaims with satisfaction, twirling around in her swivel chair to face Tommy.

“How? I thought you said this guy was some kind of huge ‘roids junkie or something,” he contradicts casually.

Felicity rolls her eyes and ignores his comment as she responds, “I think he had a little more motivation… knowing how _everyone_ was really believing in him.”

“You didn’t.”

“Guess you’ll have to stop screening his calls from now on…”

“ _Felicity!!!”_

~

“So, are you going to explain the ‘ _Piranha_ ’ thing to me now?” Sarah asks in a teasing, yet honestly curious tone.

She’s gazing up at Chuck with that gorgeous Sarah smile as they walk towards the car, shoulder-to-shoulder. He feels a grin tug at his lips, and he can’t help smiling back.

“You heard that, huh?” he confirmed, only slightly able to swallow the humiliation he feels as his cheeks begin to redden.

“Hmm,” is her only response, but when he fails to answer her after several steps, she repeats it with a little more steely undertone.

“Not a chance,” He says, mirth evident in his mock serious voice.

She gasps at him in fun, reaching out to hit him playfully with her purse. She exclaims, “What? Come on! You owe me that, at least!”

He doesn’t bother holding back a pleased laugh as he stares happily at the road in front of him. He glances up at her from where his head is still bent slightly toward the ground, the sun shining through his lashes, and unwittingly, making her gasp at the color of his eyes at that angle. “I really don’t see how! You have my whole life filed away somewhere in a manila envelope!”

“And you have every last one of the CIA’s best kept secrets locked away in your head,” Sarah argues smoothly, a playful glint in her eyes, and a confident smirk on her mouth.

“Fair,” Chuck concedes with a tilt of his head, grinning back down at her with an easy surety in his step.

He had almost forgotten how weightless he could feel with her sometimes, when their guards were down. Now, however, staring into her crisp blue-gold eyes and wide, full lips all smiley and fond, he can recall with perfect clarity why he had confessed his feelings to this girl about thirty times since that first fake(ish) date. He loved her so fully that it made his stomach dip in the sudden recognition; like coming inside to a warm fire after standing out in the pouring rain for hours, during a Hurricane.

Oh, yeah.

“Idiot,” a familiar grunt reaches from behind Chuck, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know that it’s Casey, but he does anyway.

He watches the older man overtake the couple easily, striding ahead to place the bags of equipment into the open back of the van, a small half-smirk playing on his face. He can’t even be annoyed with him right now. Not when he’s got this much happiness in him. Sarah reaches up and tugs on his arm to regain his attention.

“I’m serious, Chuck,” she murmurs articulately. “What was all that talk about ‘ _The Piranha’?_ ”

He shakes his head, feeling a flutter in his gut at her touch. He relents, “The next time I tell someone that story, it will be to the woman I marry. That way she’s already legally bound to stay with me no matter how nerdy she finds out I am.”

“So, never?” Casey asks snidely, as Chuck and Sarah halt before him.

“Ha Ha, Casey, you’re a comedian.”

“Well,” he says with a sigh, “You morons ready to get the hell out of that wack-job’s city?”

~

“Well, that was nice. That was a nice visit. I think we’ve made life-long friends in those guys, eh?”

Digg snorts absently as Felicity rants, putting his earpiece and gun away. Felicity is standing by her desk, eyes on Oliver as he heads to the room in the back where he changes out of the suit.

“Sure, Felicity. As if we’ll ever see them again.”

“What?” she exclaims, head jerking up. “Why do you say that?”

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe because they came here looking for a thief and instead found the Arrow, a Mirakuru soldier, and their match in emotional constipated crime-fighting couples? Is that sufficient enough reasoning?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get your point, John,” Felicity responds dejectedly before adding, fervently, “But you can’t say you didn’t like Casey! Don’t even bother because I know the truth! You and Casey are BFFs for life, I know it!!”

Digg hides an amused smirk behind a grunt of annoyance, grabs his jacket, and stands. “Well. I’m going home. G’night, Felicity.”

“Night, John.”

He turns to her to see that her hands are held behind her back, holding her up against the desk. Behind her glasses, blue eyes are unfocused, staring blindly on something he can’t see. The tension rippling in her shoulders is a presence all its own in the room, and he sighs.

“You’ll be fine, Felicity.”

“I know.”

“So stop doubting yourself,” he retorts softly. “ _And_ him.”

Then, without waiting for an answer, he turns and strides up the stairs and out into the breezy night. The rain has picked up, dulling the sights and sounds of nightlife in the bad side of town. He pulls at his collar and heads quickly to his car. John Diggle doesn’t rush for anyone, but when he catches the headlights of a familiar red convertible pulling up to the club’s back entrance, he remembers a conversation he had with Tommy a few days ago down in the Foundry, and darts swiftly out of his parking space and into the road.

“… _Then, I told her to go home and work off some steam, because I would handle Ollie_.”

“ _And by handle_ …”

“ _I mean,_ _handle_.”

~

Oliver walks back towards her under the light of the Foundry in a clean white shirt and blue jeans. Felicity watches him with a gnawing ache in her belly. His eyes rove over her face, catching on whatever she so desperately hoped to hide. She watches his hands slip self-consciously into the pockets of his pants as his shoulders hunch anticipatorily.

“What?” he asks in greeting.

She sighs, hating that she can’t have a better poker-face. “Nothing, nothing. Just tired after a long interrupted period of what is now scarily becoming my actual job.”

“Felicity…” Oliver cuts in quietly, dragging her name out in that way that says he is not at all fooled.

“Which is weird, right? I mean, when did Queen Consolidated stop being my main job, and saving vigilantes from behind a computer make top priority—wow, my life out of context sounds really, _really_ freaking strange—“

“Felicity. Tell me what’s wrong,” Oliver murmurs softly, before rushing on in a flurry of tension, “Is it about… us? Because I want you to know that I would never presume—I mean, I don’t mind taking things slow, or if—if you’re changing your mind. That. That is okay.”

“No, no, Oliver. Of _course_ not,” Felicity hastily insists, stepping forward without a thought. Her hand moves to rest on his bicep and she can feel the heat radiating from it. It is, to say the least, intoxicating.

“Then what’s the matter?” he asks, and her heart breaks at his worried expression, but when he reaches forward to pull her in, she can’t help taking a step back.

The look on his face at _that_ moment is simply uncontested. she feels like weeping at the hurt she sees there, but she knows that there is no way she can hope to get through this with him touching her like that, like she’s the most important thing in the world.

“It’s just that… you say you want to be with me—“

“Yes,” he professes immediately, voice breaking with overwhelming emotion, but she doesn’t let it stop her.

“And I get that you mean that—“

“Absolutely.”

“ _Now_ ,” she finishes, heart breaking as the truest and darkest of her fears slips out. She can’t look up, too afraid of what she might see—or not see—on his face. “But who’s to say that, when Laurel gets kidnapped again, or another beautiful mysterious woman from your past shows up in town—who’s to say you will keep wanting this? Wanting me?”

There’s silence and it rings in her ears, injecting a strain of anxiety and dread that she’s never felt before shooting through her limbs. She continues, if only to strip away that silence.

“Who’s to say I’m good enough for someone like you, a hero? Who’s to say I even _can_ keep you satisfied—and _not in the sexy times way_ —in the L-word way? Oliver, where would we be then? No longer partners, no longer lovers… no longer _friends_? I just don’t know if I can handle that, losing you and Diggle. I mean, it’s one thing to have to watch you gallivanting around in love with Gorgeous Laurel and Feisty Mckenna, but to not have you in my life? To not get to hang out with you every night? You’re one of my best friends. I can’t risk losing you if this ends up not being what you want.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. And that is the moment in which Felicity Smoak dies a thousand deaths.

“Felicity, look at me.”

Hearing the tone of his voice she can’t help but gaze back into his eyes. There’s sparkling with something she isn’t sure she’s seen in him before.

“Where could you even come up with something like that? You mean so much more to me than just that, someone to get tired of, that the idea is ridiculous. I can’t even imagine _trying_ to pull myself away from you. How could you think that I would—“

“But who’s to say—“

“ _Me_!” A voice interrupts, emanating from the top of the stairs. Felicity and Oliver both jerk up in surprise, feeling their faces burn. “ _I_ am to say: that you’re being a baby. Ollie, go wait outside.”

“But—“

“Go.”

The two men stare each other down for an infinite moment, before Oliver reluctantly glances at Felicity and then very grudgingly heads up the stairs and out of the door. Tommy moves to stand beside her, taking his place with a conveniently cavalier expression.

“Tommy, what are you doing? Oliver and I were talking...” She asks grudgingly. Her heartrate is still spiked from the terror of their conversation, and she can’t seem to dredge up the usual feelings of annoyance at her beloved friend.

“Eh—“ He interrupts again, with a finger. “I just wanted to give you something. In case it changed anything.” Behind his hand, he stage whispers, “ _It will._ ”

He bends over her computers, and she’s just about to complain about him _touching things_ , when he pulls away and she sees that he has plugged in a USB drive. A little screen pops up and he clicks a file labeled “Idiots.”

“What—“

“Shh…”

On the screen, a video has appeared, what looks like a surveillance video. The longer it plays, the more Felicity realizes that it is in fact the surveillance video of the foundry. She bends closer to the monitor in surprise.

“ _Man, that whole casual relationship thing was a lot more charming before you left on that damn boat. Really? ‘Pleasantries’, Oliver? What were you thinking_?”

Tommy’s voice coming from the video startles Felicity, and, as they sink in, she finds herself settling into her chair. Her mind jumps to her hurt conversation with Tommy, and now felt like years ago.

_“It wasn’t like that, Tommy.”_

Oliver’s gruff, broken voice catches her attention and she leans in closer, analyzing the framed image as the man stands hunched forward and defensively. She feels a small stab of satisfaction to see firsthand that he had not taken her silence in stride. However, a quick reminder of how that night of silence ended stanches the feeling once and for all.

 _“You don’t understand. It was more complicated than that. She misinterpreted my words!”_ Oliver’s pleas yank at her heart, and suddenly nothing about this is okay, seeing this private moment, being privy to this fight of brothers—of best friends _._

Felicity turns back to Tommy to ask him what his deal was, why he was showing her this. But a frantic glance around the foundry reveals to her that he is nowhere in sight. She turns back to the video with what is definitely not curiosity burning beneath her skin, because that would be totally rude and ugly. She leans forward with an expectant expression.

_“So then, explain it to me slowly.”_

On the screen, Oliver is staring back and forth between his two best friends, hands unwittingly wringing in front of him. Felicity feels her heart lurch in anticipation.

_“She didn’t let me get out what I really wanted to say!”_

_“Which was?”_

_“That I love her! Obviously. That I couldn’t do any of this without her. And that I was so wrapped up in my crusade that I didn’t even stop to examine these feelings that I started having… And I wrote it off as being protective instead of jealous, or being proud of a friend rather than feeling—love…I just. I was so scared of what showing that would do. Because I want to be with her… more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But I can’t lose her, and I can’t allow her to get hurt because of being close to me. That whole first year I was back in Starling there was a bullseye on Laurel’s back and that was because she was the woman I loved. If anything ever happened to Felicity…_

_“I care about her safety too much to allow myself the pleasure of indulging in her love.”_

And, just like that, Felicity Smoak is revived with a rush of contentment a thousand and one times over. Her world settles back into place as the words ring true in his strong, steady voice. This is the moment when she knows that no matter what, they will always be okay.

_“It’s less fun when he gets all sincere.”_

She doesn’t bother with turning off the video before grabbing her jacket and purse, and racing up the stairs two at a time. Her thoughts center around one thing, and it just so happens that they are spread wide open on the other side of the door, waiting for her to propel herself forward, to be wrapped up in him; in the man she believes in, in the man she loves.

~

— **5** — **4** — **3** —

The bomb is ticking, and there isn’t any time, but she’s screaming for him to go—to leave her—but he can’t. He’s looking into her eyes, and he just can’t.

“Go Chuck, I’m ordering you to go!”

“No, Sarah, I’m not going to leave you here!”

A moment of piercing silence, a gun held unyieldingly at his head; corn-flower blonde hair laying gracefully against her fair skin where it has begun to unravel at the nape of her neck; the twitching wrinkle between her eyebrows that speaks of strength and resolve, of shattered willpower and indecision; full, bright lips, shiny from her teeth worrying on them; thick, dark lashes that frame those amazing blue-gold eyes.

A moment, a second in time, one little heartbeat of hesitation, before she’s rushing forward. When their lips meet, it isn’t anything like he thought it would be. Not soft, gentle, and attentive, no. In fact, he doesn’t think at all. The kiss is brass, rough, physical. It is all fumbling nips and careless traces of the tongue. And then suddenly it’s hitting him. _She’s here, standing in front of me, with her lips pressed desperately against mine—_

The world rushes into the forefront of his mind, and he’s grappling onto her thin, yet unyielding shoulders, grabbing her up into his chest. Her hands are clutched on either side of his face, nails digging for purchase. The slight twinge of discomfort only spurs him further on, to pull her in closer, dip his face more fully into her space. He tilts for a better angle, a deeper entry into her mouth, and she responds with a dancing of tongues that means all the things he’s been craving, the physical and emotional void filling.

He throws himself into it, and it is not the kiss he’s been waiting for, god no; it’s the kiss no one ever knows to wait for, it’s the kiss that makes the whole world halt on its hinges, and all the records scratch in this one brief moment, and all the people and all the noise of the world fall silent for that moment. Because, this moment—this deafeningly silent moment—is their entire forever.

— **2** — **1**

And, with another fevered kiss, and one more wilting kiss… Forever is over. Her eyes gingerly open, lifting to up to see his still pressed firm shut at the lingering feeling. Then his are prying themselves open as well, desperately look at her, to gauge what she’s feeling and thinking. His eyes first rest on her swollen, bruised lips, before inching up to his eyes. Her unresolved eyes. She’s confused. However, he can’t seem to catch up to whatever thought has befuddled her, not with her body pressed into his the way they are. Not with his hands still pressed into her skin.

He watches her turn and stare at something. _The bomb,_ his mind supplies. His gazes down her face in total awe. It feels like his mind has a thin layer of frost lain over it, making all thoughts and deduction less sharp, and more primal. His thoughts are more emotions and sensations than actual solid thou— _The bomb._

Chucks head whips to the side in time to see that the little countdown has seized and is now blinking mockingly up at them. And, with a churning feeling in his gut—as if he can sense what will come next, as if by instinct—their moment shatters, and Sarah is peeling herself off of him like an embarrassing sticker. She stands rigidly with fingers tugging on her lips. He stands, cold and empty, waiting for what he can almost already hear. The words that end this… _thing_ once and for all. Ironically, he doesn’t have to wait nearly as long as he did for that kiss.

“Well, the good news is we’re alive…and the bad news is that this is a little bit awkward right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, yes, i did the chuck/sarah surveillance video thing for felicity/oliver. cheap blow, yeah yeah, but i really, REALLY wanted that in there just cause last minute angst and heartache is my JAM.
> 
> anyway, i really hoped you guys liked this. i was so much fun writing! and if you want to leave a note or critique or anything, please leave a comment!! I would love to hear what you loved or hated about it. :)

**Author's Note:**

> just want to note:
> 
> sorry about this chapter being so short. I just really needed it to end where it did. so.
> 
> i'll add more notes if i think of any, but for now. thank you soo much for anyone who reads, and I welcome any and all criticisms. i am so far from perfect. :) thank you and goodnight.


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